


your people shall be my people

by Rysler



Series: Seasons [2]
Category: Gentleman Jack (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Autumn, F/F, FBI, Foster Care, I will never shut up about wine, North Carolina, Pretenders to the throne, Villains
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-23 05:14:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 27,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23739547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rysler/pseuds/Rysler
Summary: FBI Agent Anne Lister and less-lonely heiress Ann Walker kick off the fall season at the policeman's ball.
Relationships: Anne Lister (1791-1840)/Ann Walker (1803-1854)
Series: Seasons [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1709995
Comments: 138
Kudos: 175





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Very minor spoilers for The Crown 3x5.

“Therefore let him who thinks he stands take heed lest he fall.” - Corinthians 10:12, from Anne Lister’s diary, [December 26, 1834](https://annelistersdiary.com/2019/06/18/26-december-1834/). 

***

Ann finished tying Anne’s tie, smoothing it down. They were in Anne’s Greenville apartment, and Anne lamented that now coiffed, she did not have time to undress again and make love to Ann. The tie-tying was erotic.

Ann’s lipstick, erotic.

Ann’s dress—

“This is torture,” Anne said. 

“It’s your policeman’s ball,” Ann said. 

“It’s not _my_ policeman’s ball,” Anne huffed. “But I have been looking forward to it.”

Ann pressed her lips to Anne’s cheek, a delicate circle of pink. “Just remember, the more you drink tonight, the less likely it is that you can get this dress off me after.”

“Club soda, then,” Anne said hoarsely.

Ann pursed her lips together. “You look amazing.”

“Not like a waiter?” Anne gazed down at her black suit jacket sleeves. Underneath she wore cerulean satin, and the black tie and blue handkerchief to match. 

Ann’s evening dress, flared at the ankles, was all white. She did not like being referred to as “Elsa,” even though she’d put silver glitter in her hair and on her eyelids.

“Are you sure you want me to come?” Ann asked, searching Anne’s face.

“It’s 2020. I want to show you off. You can only enhance my career, not harm it.”

“I think you’re calling me pretty.”

Anne cupped Ann’s face in her hands. “More than calling.” She kissed Anne slowly.

Ann tucked her hands inside Anne’s jacket, sliding across her back, tangling the satin.

“Okay, we definitely have to go,” Anne said, stepping back.

“We don’t want to be the first ones there,” Ann said, grinning and biting her lip.

“Can we be the first ones to leave?”

Ann wrapped herself around Anne again, more chastely. “It’s going to be weird to be seen again. Not as the Walkers’ perfect daughters, quiet and proper and perfect.”

“You’re your own woman, now,” Anne said.

“Not yours?” Ann smacked Anne’s back.

“Well, that’s what I want them to think,” Anne said. “Let’s go. Bill will be there, he’s always good for a story.”

“If you insist. It’s you I want to show off, though. My cousins will simply die of envy.”

“I look forward to that,” Anne said. 

***

The Westin ballroom was filled with cops in cheap suits, federal agents in nicer suits, and wealthy donors who put those on the public payroll to shame. 

Anne stood next to Bill, who was boldly eating the shrimp. She stuck to cantaloupe.

“You clean up nice, Baron,” Bill said.

“Gotta live up to my reputation.”

“Nah, cast-off royalty is usually of a shabby, outdated appearance, as if their transportation from another time and place didn’t go well.”

“Bill? Are you on something?”

“I am. Would you like some?”

“Ann said it would be my benefit to remain sober.”

“She seems to be having a good time,” Bill said.

Ann was halfway across the room, listening to a girl her age talk animatedly and gesture at a few other young people of the “donor” classification.

“Harriet Parkhill. They were at UVA together, coincidentally. Distant cousins, unfriendly families. The Walkers and the Rawsons.”

“The Rawsons who own everything from Cape Fear to Cape Hatteras?”

“Yes. I keep finding their name on things.”

Bill nodded. He ate another shrimp.

“You’re going to get mercury poisoning,” Anne said.

“They’re good. Keiko won’t let me eat them.”

“Why not?”

“They’ll give me mercury poison,” Bill said, chuckling.

Ann searched the room for Anne, and brightened when she saw her. She waved Anne over.

“Go meet real royalty, Baron,” Bill said.

Anne dutifully strode over, trying to look tall and composed, knowing the trousers accentuated her long legs, and the blue made a bold statement. The youth had drifted away and now Harriet stood with two stately elder men. 

Ann took her hand, smiling. “Harriet, this is my partner, Anne Lister. The one I emailed you about.”

Harriet took Anne’s free hand, and shook it repeatedly. “Yes! I’m so excited to meet you. A real FBI agent?”

“The senior field agent for this part of the state,” Anne said, lifting her chin.

The two older men regarded her with friendly politeness, but no smiles. Ann introduced them as Christopher and Jeremiah.

Christopher arched a brow shrewdly, studying her. “Wait, are you the FBI agent who found the serial killer of those little girls? Was it last month that I was reading that in the papers?”

“Yes,” that’s me, Anne said, being chuffed winning out over embarrassment.

“Anne Lister,” Christopher said, as if memorizing her. “I remember seeing Frank Haleton at these parties. Is he still alive?”

“Retired and living in Charlotte,” Anne said. “Playing a lot of golf.”

Christopher finally cracked a smile. “Good for him.” He looked past Anne’s shoulder. “Oh, there’s Ashton Creed. I’d better go say hello before he gets too into his cups.”

Christopher patted Harriet’s shoulder as he swooped off.

Jeremiah smiled. “We’re happy to support our local law enforcement.” He wandered off after Christopher.

“Ann. I’m so glad you finally came out to an event,” Harriet gushed. “It’ll be so wonderful to have you with me at these parties. And maybe the theater? And of course, the summer house on the Outer Banks.”

“Thanks,” Ann said. She hadn’t let go of Anne’s hand, and held it tighter now.

Bill came over, with an entire tray of champagne. “Ladies.”

“Oh, thank you,” Harriet said. She took one. “Are you with the FBI too?”

“Indeed I am.”

Harriet giggled. “I could tell by your suit.”

Bill inclined his head graciously.

Anne and Ann took champagne. 

“Well,” Bill said. “You’re in it now, Anne.”

Anne surveyed the party. Sam Washington was there, standing with a group of state patrol officers. Other friends. More donors she didn’t recognize, but would meet tonight. The Rawsons’ friends. 

Ann’s family.

Her search came back to Ann. She smiled and tapped her forehead against Ann’s temple. 

“You’re happy,” Ann said, smiling.

Anne thought back to her last days in Charlotte, ones that she could barely remember, where her future had been destroyed. No promotions, no rubbing elbows with Senators and Admirals in Washington, D.C. No rising above her station, living up to her grandfather’s dreams.

Here in this shabby little backwater, she had regained it all, and with love that made her care less, enjoy more. 

“I am happy,” Anne said. 

Ann had unwillingly had what Anne always wanted. Now they shared the life equally, Ann, free to be herself, Anne, free to pretend a little more.

“Do you want to try the shrimp?” Anne asked.

Ann took a sip of champagne, and then grinned. “I want to dance.”

***

Anne woke up and checked her phone. 6:00 AM. There was also a text, too blurry to read. She groaned. Her head ached. She hadn’t much champagne, but she hadn’t had much to eat, either. The champagne must have been cheap, even with the cash bar. She muttered a thanks to the donors for that.

Ann slept on. Anne got out of bed, cracking her back, stretching. They’d put on pajamas after making love. Anne felt grubby in hers. She considered a shower, but put on a robe and stumbled from her bedroom into the apartment’s tiny kitchen. 

Her Keurig awaited. Her appalled lover had threatened many times to buy her a better machine, but Anne reasoned she wasn’t here that much anymore. She could survive.

She turned the machine on, sat at her kitchen table, and contemplated her phone again.

Marian had texted. “Call me as soon as you get this.”

Anne frowned. There was no accompanying “911” code, so Marian must be physically all right and safe. Maybe in jail? Anne unlocked her phone and checked her email. An email from Marian just said, “Call me.” 

Anne grumbled until the Keurig went off. She retrieved her coffee, drank some carefully, and called Marian. If Marian wanted her to call at 6:00 AM, she damn well would.

“Anne, thank God,” Marian said, picking up on the first ring.

“Marian, are you in jail?”

“Am I what?” A hysterical laugh. “Am I in jail? What is wrong with you?”

“It’s six in the morning,” Anne whined.

“It’s about work.”

“Yours or mine?” Anne felt dread settle into the pit of her stomach.

“Mine, and yours. It’s about the bank.”

Anne took another sip of coffee. “Okay.”

“I think I uncovered embezzlement. And money laundering.”

“You must do that all the time, Marian.”

“Not on this scale. This massive scale, going back into the 80s. Undiscovered. Or maybe covered up. I know, and my assistant knows, and I’ve got a third party forensic team on it, but all blacked out, and—“

Marian took a breath.

“Marian, are you in danger?”

“Not yet?” Marian squeaked.

“Okay, well, I’m sure—“

“There’s something else. I think they’re funding something. Like terrorism?” Marian’s voice rose on the last word.

“Terrorism? What kind?” Anne wished she had a notebook. She considered recording the conversation, but thought better of it.

“Like… a new society. You know, how the Dominos founder started that city in Florida? And the Confederados after the Civil War? I think they’re going to like...I don’t know if it’s city planning or a coup.”

“A coup?”

“I think that would be hard, you know? In the United States. Like in that episode of _The Crown_ with Tywin Lannister. I think it would be too hard. The state endures. But maybe somewhere like Costa Rica, or Haiti… “

“Marian. Calm down.”

Marian took a breath.

“Can’t you… pass this up the food chain? Oversight?”

“I am the food chain. I’m the lawyer. This is my job!” Marian shrieked.

“Okay, okay. I’ll get in touch with the Charlotte office and set up a—“

“No, not the Charlotte office. _Your_ office.”

“Why?”

“This shit is all going down in your neck of the woods.”

The pain in Anne’s stomach intensified.

“Out with it, Marian. What am I going to have to deal with?”

“The Rawsons.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne is troubled by Ann's newest foster kid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a rough one, guys. No fluff here.

“Listen, my beloved brethren: Has God not chosen the poor of this world to be rich in faith and heirs of the kingdom which he promised?” - James 5:2, NKJV

***

Marian and Anne sat in Anne’s office. Elena’s face showed on the tablet screen. Day two of the Rawson case, which still needed an operational name, was going better than day one.

On day one, Marian had showed up with a flash drive.

“We can’t stick this in an FBI computer without sanitizing it, Marian,” Anne complained.

“I wasn’t going to send it through email!”

“You’re being paranoid,” Anne said.

“It’s completely justified.” Marian said.

Thomas bravely got up from his chair and stepped between them. “Can I see the flash drive, please?”

Marian glanced at Anne, who nodded. Marian handed Thomas the flash drive.

“Did you create a case, Anne?” he asked.

“Yes. It’s flagged _Marian_ for now.”

Marian squinted.

“I’ll make sure everything gets there,” he said.

“Thank you, Thomas.” Anne took Marian’s elbow. “Come into my office.”

“You don’t have to drag me.”

Day two found Marian much calmer after a night at the Westin. No way was she going to stay on Anne’s fold-out couch. 

Elena had received the files. “We’ll put our forensics team on it. And you said you hired a third party, Marian?”

“Yes.” Marian gave their name and phone number.

“I won’t tell them there’s an investigation yet. Let me know when they contact you.”

“Okay,” Marian said. She turned to Anne. “Can I go home, now?”

“Don’t you want to see Ann?”

“I want to put all of this behind me.” Marian waved her hands. 

Anne frowned.

“How about I come back on the weekend? Do you think there will be any news by then?”

“No,” Anne and Elena said together.

“Well, then I’ll just come for drinks,” Marian said.

“Good. You can stay at the farmhouse.”

“Oh, joy. Country living.”

Anne scowled.

Marian swatted her arm.

Elena said, “So. We’ll run the case from Atlanta, but Anne will have to do the on-the-ground work. Once we know what we need. Do you know the Rawsons?”

“They’re Ann’s cousins,” Anne said.

“Egads,” Marian said.

Anne sighed.

“Small towns are the best,” Elena said.

Anne pinched her nose. “Look, Charlotte and Atlanta, you go back to your urban blight and leave me be.”

“You don’t have to say it twice,” Marian said.

“Signing off now,” Elena said cheerfully, and cut her feed.

“Sure you can’t stay for dinner?” Anne asked.

“It’s only three now. I can be home by dinnertime and see my cat,” Marian said.

“You like that cat more than me.”

“Absolutely.”

Anne grinned. “Fine. I will see you in four days. At the farmhouse.”

Marian rolled her eyes, but got up. Anne joined her. They hugged. 

“Don’t worry, Marian. We’ll take care of this,” Anne said.

“I know.”

Anne squeezed her. Then walked her out to her car. “Follow the speed limit,” Anne said.

Marian flipped her off and got into her Lexus.

Anne went back inside. 

Thomas hunched over his computer, pretending he didn’t hear or see anything that went on. Gillian had taken a sick day.

“I’ll be in my office, Thomas. Looking at bank records. Please send any calls through. _Please_.”

***

Anne pulled into the farmhouse. She was nervous. She’d texted Ann to let her know she was coming, not having seen her in a few days. 

Ann had texted back to say she had a child at the house who had autism. To come in calmly. 

Anne felt torn between jealousy—wasn’t this her house, too? Did she have to creep around? And compassion. The motherly instinct that had come over her upon first meeting Ann’s menagerie had never faded. Here was another opportunity. One she didn’t exactly want. Or not want. 

Anne got out of the car.

Screaming came from inside the house.

Anne darted toward the porch. She gave a fleeting thought to her gun in the trunk, but anticipating finding Ann and a kid, she took the risk.

“No, no, no, no, no!”

Anne opened the door.

A large boy, 12 or 13, was waving his arms at Ann. He came up to her shoulder. The boy and Ann both glanced at the door when Anne came through.

“Anne, this is Raymond,” Ann said in a calm, cool voice.

Raymond shrieked. 

Anne didn’t move. But Raymond was turning his attention back to Ann, and screaming. Then he hit Ann. Across her upper arm. Then her chest.

Anne lunged forward.

“Stop, Anne,” Ann said loudly and firmly, not looking at her.

Anne stopped.

Raymond kept hitting Ann. She ignored the blows and moved between his arms, and held Raymond in a technique Anne knew intimately. Ann lowered him to the floor. She pinned him on his back.

Except for _Stop, Anne_ , Ann had never stopped talking to Raymond in a low, quiet voice. 

On the floor, it was harder to scream, so Raymond yelled, and then shouted incoherently.

“I’ll call the police,” Anne said.

“No.” Ann finally looked at her. “Just… go upstairs. Or something. I’ve got this.”

“Ann—“

“Go away. You’re upsetting him.”

Cheeks burning, Anne went upstairs. She tried to be light-footed on the steps even though she wanted to stomp. She went into their bedroom. She couldn’t hear Raymond yelling anymore.

Anne sat in the chair by the window and stewed. She tried to go through her work email, but had no concentration for it. Outside, the sky was darkening, as it did early now. 

She dug her nails into her hand. She tried not to be mad at Ann. But she was. She was very angry that Ann had done this.

When minutes passed and nothing happened, Anne went back to her work phone. She managed to delete unimportant emails. Then she Googled what was going on with Raymond. 

It wasn’t helpful.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Ann came in. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Anne said. She stood up.

“Raymond’s calmer now. He’s downstairs playing. He’s just in an unfamiliar place, and he was already on the brink of an anxiety attack when you came home. The sound of the car upset him.”

“Ann. This isn’t normal. This isn’t what you do.” Anne gestured at Ann. 

“I know. It’s unusual. But I’m emergency foster care, Anne. This is an emergency.”

“It shouldn’t be you. You’re—“ Anne hesitated. Was she going to say ‘little’? ‘Weak’?

Ann didn’t let her off the hook. She seemed just as angry as Anne. Upset, strung-out, anxious from the high energy of the situation. 

“I’m what?”

“Unsuited,” Anne said.

“It’s an emergency,” Ann stressed. Her face narrowed. “Imagine what kind of emergency it takes to create this. What kind of hell he must have been in.” Ann stepped closer to Anne.

“Ann, I know—“

“Do you? Do you want to know? It’s okay at school, where people are trained and he has his IEP, but at home, at night, there are cages—“

“I don’t want to know,” Anne said. “Goddamnit, Ann.”

Ann was inches from Anne’s face. “Have you ever been strapped down?”

“No.” Anne tried to put up a defense to Ann’s words, but she couldn’t shut off her ears. 

“I have. It’s awful. And I’ve been locked in rooms. Because I was too much for the world. Because the world was too much for me.”

Anne didn’t want to imagine Ann like that. But she did. “The screaming?” Anne asked.

Ann’s smile was cold. “Oh, they hate it when you scream.”

Anne didn’t know what to say, so said nothing, staying still in front of Ann’s anger, until Ann’s shoulders sank. 

“Everything’s fine,” Ann said, more softly.

“I want to protect you. I’m supposed to protect you,” Anne said.

“Him, too,” Ann said.

“Not at your expense. You are… more important.”

Ann sighed. She glanced around their room. “Everything’s fine,” she said again. “Your supper’s in the fridge.”

Anne was suddenly famished. Ann looked at her tiredly.

“I’ll go, then,” Anne said. 

Ann radiated a need for time and space. She nodded. 

Anne grabbed her phone, and then went through the door, and crept downstairs. 

Raymond was on the couch, wearing headphones and looking at a table. He didn’t look up when she went into the kitchen. In the fridge she found a plate with chicken and rice. She put it in the microwave for a minute, took out a fork. Filled a glass with water.

She ached to be with Ann upstairs. But the post-adrenaline comedown made for bad company. 

She sighed and settled in to eat. She wondered where the dogs were.

When she was washing her plate in the sink, her phone buzzed.

Gillian had texted. “I want you to hear it from me. James and I broke up.”

Anne’s heart sank. She sat down at the kitchen island. She texted, “Was he a jerk about…”

Gillian texted, “No, no. He was lovely in bed. Quite fun. But he wanted me to move to the farm. I want to go back to New York. Once the initial excitement wore off, we had nothing in common.”

“I’m sorry,” Anne texted. 

“We were just different people,” Gillian said.

“Thanks for telling me,” Anne texted.

“How are things with you?”

Anne sighed. “I don’t know. Rough day.”

Ann came downstairs and went into the living room. She got Raymond up and they went back upstairs. Anne checked the time. It was getting late. Must be bedtime. 

“Sorry, boss.”

Anne texted, “Tomorrow’s a new day,” and wondered if she believed it.

“See you on the other side,” Gillian texted.

Anne tucked away her phone. She finished the dishes. She walked through the living room to see if there was anything that needed to be picked up, straightened.

She went upstairs. The kids room door was cracked. A night light was on inside. Anne peeked in.

Raymond slept, his body relaxed, a faint smile on his face. He held a stuffed monkey. Its limbs wrapped around his arm.

 _Kids_.

Ann came up beside her, putting her hand on Anne’s back. “I know it’s a cliche, but he looks like an angel, doesn’t he?”

“He really does.” 

Ann tugged on Anne, leading her back to their room. 

“I don’t know how to protect both of you,” Anne said. “And Marian. You’re all taking risks and I—“

“You take risks all the time,” Ann said.

“It’s not fair.” 

Ann sat on the bed. She’d changed into pajamas. “I know you’re not going to sleep, but lie down with me? After you change.”

“I’m not putting on nightclothes in case…”

“Sweats?”

“I don’t own sweats.” Ann scoffed.

Ann’s lips curved upward. “Tracksuit? Yoga pants?”

Anne went into the closet and then the bathroom, changing into yoga pants and a loose tee shirt. She kept on her bra.

When she came out, Ann had turned down the covers and gotten into bed.

Anne slipped into the sheets. “I don’t like impossible situations where I’m not in control.”

Ann took Anne’s hand. “Let me know if you find anyone good at that.”

Anne exhaled as tension left her body. “James and Gillian broke up.”

“James told me. He’s taking it hard.”

“Poor bastard.” Anne thought about what Gillian had said. She shifted, facing Ann, bringing their linked hands up to her chest. “I do want to hear about what happened to—what you’ve lived and experienced. I want to know everything.”

Ann nodded. She sank down onto her shoulder. “And I wanna hear about Mariana.” Her tone was slightly sarcastic.

Anne chuckled. “But not tonight.”

“No. Sometime when it’s...we’re…” Ann faltered, and pressed her chin to Anne’s knuckles.

“In a safer place,” Anne said. 

“Yeah.” Ann closed her eyes. “You’re going to watch over me while I sleep?”

“Seems so.”

“And Raymond.”

“And Raymond.”

Ann yawned, and showed no signs of moving. Anne rolled over to turn out the light. 

She sat in the dark, thinking.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mostly sex.

“I believe then we must scruffle on together _._ ” _-_ Anne to Ann, recorded in Anne Lister’s diary, December 4, 1838.

***

Anne descended the stairs at a leisurely 7:06 AM. The sun already shone through the windows. In the kitchen she found Raymond, who was sitting at the kitchen island, drumming his fingers on the granite.

She considered. Then opened the fridge. “Do you want orange juice, Raymond?” 

He nodded.

“Cereal?”

“No,” he said, looking away.

She poured him some juice and started the coffee machine. She’d left her stuff in the car yesterday, so she settled on reading the news and working from her phone. 

Raymond drank the juice.

Anne tried not to stare at him. Tried not to make idle conversation. When he finished his glass, she asked, “Do you need anything?”

He glanced at her. “Are there dogs?”

Anne got up and went to the window. Three dogs were lying in the grass. Charlie gazed at the house. The other two had their eyes closed.

“Do you like dogs?” She looked over her shoulder.

Raymond nodded, coming to stand beside her.

“Which one?” Anne asked. “I can bring it in.”

Raymond pointed to Lorenzo. “That one’s like mine.”

“Okay.”

She went to the closet and got a leash, and then went out onto the porch and called Lorenzo.

All three dogs came, making her feel guilty. She clipped Lorenzo to the leash and slipped inside with him.

Raymond carefully sat on the floor, cross-legged. Lorenzo came and sniffed at him. 

“That’s Lorenzo,” Anne said.

Raymond petted Lorenzo’s neck. “Pitbull.”

“Yes. You have one?”

Raymond nodded. 

“What’s its name?”

Raymond shrugged. “Sheila.”

“Nice.” Anne went back to her perch on the kitchen island. She picked up her phone. She took a sick day. She had almost six months stored up.

***

At 9:30, Ann came down, dressed and showered. She smiled at Anne, who resisted taking Ann up in her arms to smell her. She watched, instead, as Ann went to Raymond and Lorenzo, who were dozing in a pile on the floor.

“Raymond, honey,” she said.

Raymond opened his eyes. He looked in Ann’s general direction, and then Anne’s, and then back to Ann.

“We’re taking you to the Connellys today. Have you met them before?”

Raymond nodded. “Not school?”

“School tomorrow, maybe. Mrs. Connelly can take you.” To Anne, Ann said, “He’s stayed with the Connellys before. They were out of town yesterday.”

Anne said, “I can drive him. You. Uh, you all.”

“Thanks,” Ann said. “Breakfast?” She asked Raymond.

Raymond shook his head. “No.”

“Okay. We’ll leave in a half hour. Make sure you have your stuff ready by then.”

Raymond closed his eyes and snuggled closer to Lorenzo.

Ann straightened up. She came to Anne and hugged her. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Anne said, accepting a kiss. “How’d you sleep?”

“Wonderfully when you’re here.” Ann tucked a stray hair behind Anne’s neck. “James can drive him. You have work.”

“Called in sick,” Anne said.

“Playing hooky with your girlfriend?”

Anne squeezed Ann close to her. “With my partner. It’s been days. Stupid Marian. She’s coming for the weekend by the way.”

“She texted me,” Ann said.

“What else did she say?”

“Can I come for the weekend?”

“Plain enough,” Anne said.

Ann swatted her on the ass. “I don’t know what Marian’ll do here, though. It’s pretty boring.”

“I know what we’re doing later,” Anne said.

Ann’s cheeks pinked. “Yes. But for Marian…”

“Not doing anything for a while, when you have a high pressure job, is rather nice. For a while. Then the walls close in.”

“Can you imagine being trapped in the same house for days? Months? With nothing but Netflix?”

Anne frowned. “Isn’t that your life?”

“No. I have you. I have James. I have kids. I have a life. Places to go, people to see. The post office. The Dunkin Donuts.”

“It’s a safe place to be in an apocalypse, though,” Anne said.

“Let’s hope we don’t find out.” Ann smiled, puckering her lips.

Anne kissed her, closing her eyes. Ann’s warmth settled around her in an embrace. “It’s a double-edged sword,” she murmured into Ann’s cheek.

“Hm?” 

“Doing this, and then doing the other things that help remind me why I do this.”

“Very coherent.” Ann hugged her tighter.

“Ann, do you already have plans for later?”

“I have like, a list of three things already.”

Anne blushed, then, willing her body not to respond. Everything in its place.

Ann stepped back, still beaming with a smile. “I’m going to pack Raymond’s things.”

“He won’t mind you touching his stuff?”

“He’s used to everyone touching his stuff.” Ann frowned slightly.

Anne squeezed her arm. “Better you than someone else, then.”

Ann trotted upstairs. Anne resumed her watch.

***

Dropping Raymond off at the Connellys had gone well, and then they’d ordered Waffle House to go, and ate waffles at the kitchen island. 

When they were done, they left the dishes in the sink and ran upstairs.

Ann kissed Anne, pressing her up against the door.

Anne cupped the back of Ann’s neck. She let Ann dictate the pace, the depth, the intensity of their mouths together. Being showered with kisses made Anne feel loved, special. The desire would come when called. 

Ann pulled back to look into her eyes. And grin. “All afternoon?”

“And all night if you want,” Anne husked in Ann’s ear.

Ann tugged at Anne’s shirt. “I don’t have any plans. Other than seeing you, touching you. Seeing you some more.” She giggled.

Anne helped, pulling off her shirt and dropping it. She reached for Ann’s.

“No, you first,” Ann said. She reached for Anne’s belt.

Anne held her breath as Ann pulled the belt from its loops, discarded it, and then unzipped Anne’s slacks. “So professional. You wanted to make a good impression for the foster parents, didn’t you?”

“Well... I didn’t want to make a bad impression.”

Anne’s slacks slid to the floor. She slipped out of them. Ann stepped back and took in her body, like a sculptor. Anne stood in bra and briefs and nylon socks, thinking she needed to buy better underwear. And then thinking of wearing black lace at some FBI meeting.

“Hey, what are you thinking?” Ann asked.

“Lingerie.”

Ann swallowed. She turned Anne around. Anne faced the door, feeling Ann behind her. Her bra was unclasped and she let Ann push it off her arms, pressing against her back, leaving kisses at the nape of her neck. Then Ann pushed down her underwear and a cool breeze followed. Ann stroked her calves, and then slid her hands up Anne’s ass and back, and then down her arms. 

“I do want to paint you,” Ann said. “Maybe literally.”

“That could be fun. Messy.”

Ann encircled her waist, hugged her close. Being naked and held by a clothed Ann was a strange sensation. Anne wondered that she didn’t have the urge to toss Ann to the bed and take her. Instead, the afternoon expanded languidly before her.

Ann nuzzled her shoulder, and then said, “Get on the bed.”

Anne did as told, sitting up against the headboard, ankles crossed, nipples exposed and hard.

Ann began unbuttoning her shirt. “Show me how wet you are.”

Anne spread her legs, taking a masculine pose, smirking at the way Ann’s lip jutted out, her mouth parting, at the sight of her.

“Hurry up, Ann,” Anne said. 

Ann shook herself. “No.” She took off her shirt, and then her bra, and smiled, breasts exposed. 

Anne wondered at the confidence Ann had in her body, in giving herself so freely to Anne. Anne had always been self-conscious, feeling her body was slightly wrong. Slightly unbalanced. 

Ann, despite her _No_ , quickly shed the rest of her clothes and knelt on the bed, looking at Anne like she were a delicious cake.

Anne reached forward, pulling Ann into her lap. Ann straddled it, knees bent on either side. 

“This is better,” Anne said. She kissed Ann and cupped her breast. Fire rushed through her, kinetic energy that had been waiting, nestled between her legs, now in her fingers as she brushed Ann’s nipple.

Ann’s tongue invaded Anne’s mouth. “More,” Ann breathed.

Anne held Ann’s breasts, squeezing, pressing. Ann was flushed. Anne sensed they were feeling the same desire, trading heat back and forth. She couldn’t contort to kiss Ann’s nipple, so her hands instead twisted and mauled, until Ann’s nipples were diamond points against her hands, and Ann, gripping Anne’s shoulders, groaned. 

Anne slipped her right hand down Ann’s belly and between her legs. Wetness welcomed her. Ann responded by rocking her hips against Anne. 

Ann manuvered for another heady kiss. She pushed at Anne’s fingers.

Anne circled Ann’s clit. Ann would have to ask for more. Not just with her painful grip, or her teeth grazing Anne’s lower lip. 

“Anne, inside,” Ann said. 

“We have all afternoon,” Anne said. 

“Anne, please.” 

Anne pushed a finger into Ann, rewarded with another groan and Ann’s lips falling to Anne’s neck. “More.”

“More what?” Anne added another finger.

“More you.”

Anne twisted, rolling Ann from her lap onto her back, onto the pillows. She lost contact only briefly, sliding damp fingers over Ann’s thigh, and then was inside her again, thrusting.

Ann arched, offering more of herself to Anne. She made incoherent sounds, groans and whimpers and “An—“s. 

Anne lowered her mouth to Ann’s breast. 

Ann buried her hands in Anne’s hair, holding her there, and Anne sucked, taking in the tip of Ann’s breast, tonguing the nipple, as her fingers moved ceaselessly. 

They were both sweating, moving on the bed. Ann’s gasps became choked. 

Anne moved to Ann’s other breast. She sucked firmly as Ann pulled her hair. She had three fingers inside Ann, wondering how much Ann could take, wondering how far to push her. 

Ann clutched her and stiffened. “Anne.”

“That’s it, Ann,” Anne said. “You’re so beautiful.”

Ann shuddered through her orgasm, Anne coaxing her, until Ann pressed her legs together, expelling Anne to her side. 

Anne kissed Ann’s head, inhaling the scent of sweat, grinning, as Ann’s eyes remained closed. 

“You work too much,” Ann mumbled.

Anne chuckled. “Not today.”

Ann opened her eyes and found Anne, smiling.

“Come again?” Anne asked cheekily.

“Not this second.” Ann shook her head faintly. 

“Mm.” Anne pushed herself to her knees. “I got you something.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be giving me your orgasm?”

“Later.” Anne got off the bed and went to her overnight bag. 

Ann sat up, eyes following her, as Ann produced a small wrapped box. 

“Anne,” Ann said warningly.

“It’s for sex,” Anne said.

Ann pursed her lips together. 

Anne sat on the bed and handed over the box. Ann took it, and Anne went into the bathroom and brought back lube, and sat down again.

Ann tore off the wrapping, and then opened the box. Her flushed skin deepened its pink. “Is this a vibrator?”

“Yes, it is.”

“It looks like a stress ball. Or a bean.” Ann cocked her head. The blue blob lay in its box.

“It molds to your vulva,” Anne said. 

“I like your fingers,” Ann said.

“You said it yourself, I’m not always here,” Anne said. “And if I can imagine you... doing this...”

Ann chuckled. She took it out of the box, considering. She gave it a squeeze. “You first.”

“What?”

“I want to see you use it.”

“It’s for you, it’s not... uh.” Anne’s brow furrowed. 

“I want to see it in action.”

Anne sighed. 

“On your back, Anne Lister.”

Hadn’t Anne just been fucking Ann with all that she had? And now she had to roll over like... a kitten. She couldn’t keep the sour look on her face as she complied, stretching out on her back, head up against a pillow. 

Ann merely giggled. She knelt at Anne’s side. “Do you need lube?”

“I doubt it.”

Ann reached between Anne’s legs. “You must be going crazy,” she said.

“On the contrary, I’m very much enjoying myself.” Anne traced Ann’s outstretched arm with her fingertips.

Ann, smiling, bent and kissed her, lightly, her lips grazing Anne’s. “I love you.”

“Me too.”

Ann kissed her again. A peck. Then regarded the vibrator. She turned it on. “It’s strong.”

“Yes.” Anne shifted her legs, impatient. Ann had been right. Her body was eager for passion. Ann was so near, but not looking at her, instead looking at the toy. 

Before Anne could complain, Ann’s fingers were stroking her center again, spreading her wetness, taking some and coating the vibrator. 

“Where?” Ann asked.

“Anywhere.”

Ann pressed the toy to Anne’s inner thigh, like a massager. “Help me, Anne,” she said.

Anne grasped Ann’s wrist and brought her hand higher. “Press.” 

Ann pressed the toy against her, just below her clitoris. 

“Harder.”

Ann complied. There was no friction, just vibration. Anne exhaled. She hadn’t used a vibrator in years. Her dry spell as things waned with Mariana had been very dry. She’d never had a lover for more than a night. Usually, that meant not coming at all. Now, her whole body was quivering with pleasure, pleasure that started from Ann’s hand and spread outward. Anne squeezed Ann’s wrist. Ann, who had been exploring the different noises and shifting of Anne’s hips based on where she pushed the toy, focused instead where Anne wanted her.

“This is intense,” Anne said. She attempted to keep her gaze on Ann’s face, tempted to look down at Ann’s hand, or at the ceiling so she could succumb to the sensation of desire.

“I’ve never been able to do it this hard,” Ann said. She ground the toy against Anne.

Anne, heady from making love to Ann, conquered by her own gift, came hard. She twisted away from Ann when it became too much, and found herself on her side, panting. 

“Is that how far we’ll go with this thing?” Ann asked, tentatively. 

Anne took a few deep breaths, and then with effort, pushed herself to sit against the headboard. “It has lower settings. Something gentle.”

Ann nodded.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” Anne said, in an attempt to explain herself.

Ann sat on her heels. “Were you saying you had a plan?”

“More of an idea.” Anne stretched out her hand.

Ann put the vibrator in it, damp. 

Anne arranged herself, and then experimented with the settings. It could be used for things other than the clit. With Ann’s bad back, not to mention Anne’s unmentionable arthritis, it could be useful. 

She beckoned to Ann, bending her knees and spreading them, so Ann could sit between them, her back to Anne, Anne’s left arm around her, holding her close. The bedroom smelled pleasantly of linens and sex. Anne nuzzled Ann’s hair. “Ready for round two?” 

“Yes,” Ann hissed. “Doing that to you... I couldn’t stop imagining you doing it to me.” 

Anne kissed Ann’s neck. “Get the lube.”

Ann picked up the bottle. Anne stretched out her hand, and Ann poured lube into it. 

Anne slipped between Ann’s legs, spreading liquid. Ann gasped. Anne’s fingers traveled along now slippery folds, circled a clit that she could not anchor. She knew Ann loved the sensation, faster and lighter than normal, loose and hard to capture. It excited her. Chaos. 

Her fingers still slick, Anne coated the toy also, and pressed it to Ann’s abdomen, just below her belly button. 

“That tickles,” Ann said, elbowing her. 

“So sorry,” Ann said, chuckling. She moved lower, following the crease of Ann’s hip. 

“Anne,” Ann whined. “Stop taking your time.”

“We have all afternoon,” Anne said.

“If you say that one more time I’m just going to do this myself,” Ann said.

Ann chuckled again. She kissed Ann’s shoulder, and pressed the vibrator over Ann’s center.

Ann arched back into her. “Oh...”

Anne kept constant pressure, circling.

“It’s like a little machine.” Ann said, then hesitated. “I mean, I know it is... my God. Anne.”

“They’ve been around for hundreds of years. At least someone knew women needed pleasure.”

“Probably a medical treatment for hysteria.” Ann moaned, licking her lips. “And I’m fine with that.”

Anne stroked Ann’s torso with her free hand, glancing over her breasts, and then down her thigh. Ann squirmed slightly in her embrace, going where the vibrator went. “More,” she said.

Anne moved the vibrator higher, pushing down the way she herself liked it, rewarded by Ann jolting against her, and sighing. 

“Relax,” Anne said into Ann’s ear.

Ann sank back against Anne, her eyes closed, the grip of her hands on Anne’s legs loosening.

“That’s it,” Anne said. “You’re doing so well. This is incredible.”

“Very... incredible,” Ann said somewhat incoherently. 

Anne enjoyed Ann like this, taking her pleasure, before things became intense, before the crescendo could not be stopped. Ann, moaning. Ann, being totally present, inside her arms. 

“Anne, don’t stop. I’m getting close.”

“I’m right here,” Anne said. “Right here with you.”

Ann’s grip on her legs was again intense, painful, as if she might float away without holding on. Without her fingers directly against Ann, Anne was taken surprise by the orgasm, by Ann shaking in her arms, pleading that it was too much.

Anne turned off the toy, tossed in on the bed, and held Ann close. After long, shuddering breaths, Ann shifted positions, tossing her legs over Anne’s and sitting sideways against her chest.

More long minutes passed. Then Ann said, “Anne?”

“Yes, my darling.”

“Can we do that, but... inside? Like a...”

Anne waited.

“I want a dildo,” Ann said with conviction, in the same tone of voice she ordered extra onions on her salad, despite everyone else’s opinion.

“Okay. But you have to buy it.”

“Me?”

“Something that makes you comfortable.”

“Did you know that some are shaped like dragons?”

“What?”

“There are dildos shaped like dragons.”

“Those might be for advanced users.”

Ann tilted her head back to take in Anne. “Are you an advanced user?”

Maria Barlow had made her into one. All propriety, and yet her bedroom drawer held things that demanded and coaxed pleasure, and she had trained Anne in what she wanted. Without necessarily being interested in what Anne wanted, but it had been wild. 

“A long time ago,” Anne said. 

Ann licked her lips. “Teach me everything you know.”

Anne’s heart stopped. _I know that I know nothing_ , Socrates had said. 

“Let’s just have fun,” Anne said.

“Yes, okay.” Ann sank down, resting her head in Anne’s lap. “Let’s have fun taking a nap.”

“Perfect,” Anne said. She stroked Ann’s cheek.

Ann smiled up at her, looking into her eyes, until her eyes slowly closed. 

Anne leaned back and closed hers, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The vibrator is the Ballerina. The dragon dildos are from Bad Dragon.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murder! And Marian.

“We all went to Trinity Church. Mr Lund did all the duty. Preached stupidly 28 minutes from some verse of Acts XXIV.”

\- Anne Lister’s diary, 13 April 1823

“As Paul talked about righteousness, self-control, and the judgment to come, Felix was afraid and said, ‘That’s enough for now!’”

\- Acts 24:25.

***

Anne’s phone vibrated against her arm. She stopped running, glancing around the pre-dawn woods, making sure she was safe. Birds chattered overhead. She unstrapped the phone.

Sam Washington’s name appeared on the display.

“Good morning, Sam,” she said. She started walking toward the farmhouse.

“Hope I didn’t wake you.”

“Not this time.”

“We have a body in the swamp.” 

Anne’s heart clenched. “Again?”

“An adult this time. I’m looking at him. I think you should, too. Officers ran his name and he works for Rawson Industrial. Douglas Stark.”

Anne broke into a jog. “Never head of him. What’s he do there?”

“Junior accountant.”

“Text me the coordinates.”

“Will do. Hurry. When the sun comes up he’s going to start getting ripe.”

***

At the farmhouse, Anne poured brewed coffee into a carafe, put on a suit, and left Ann a note. Then she plugged Sam’s coordinates into her GPS and turned onto the highway as the sky was lightening to whiteish morning light.

The chain of police cars told her she was in the right place. She thought about driving past them, but instead parked along the side of the road behind a K-9 unit Jeep. It was a long walk through more woods, sometimes along wooden boards the police had put down, until she was with Sam. The coroner had set up a gurney at the perimeter, but Douglas Stark was lying on a soft mossy bank.

“We dragged him out of the water after we took pictures. Looks like he was weighted down, but the weights broke.” Sam pointed to ligature marks on Douglas’s wrists and ankles.

“Thank God for stupid criminals,” Anne said.

“Not so stupid. They dug the bullet out of his head.”

Anne winced. “So it’s just a hole?” She studied the dark spot on Douglas’s forehead.

“Yup,” Sam said.

“Anything on him?”

“Wallet with no cash or credit cards,” Sam said.

“I bet we’ll find the credit cards have been used.”

“Already on it. We should have those records by the end of the day. I’ll send them over.”

“Thanks.”

“Is this an official case? Against the Rawsons?”

“No. Not yet.” Anne lowered her voice. “We got a tip-off, we’re building an evidence trail now.”

Sam nodded. “See anything here?”

“I’m not forensics.” Anne scanned the area. “Was he put in near by?”

“Hard to tell. Looks like he’s been dead for days.”

Before Marian had contacted her. Or maybe the same time. Ann swallowed. “Thanks for calling me.”

“Maybe we’ll find out he has an angry girlfriend,” Sam said.

“Angry girlfriends don’t assassinate their boyfriends with such precision,” Anne said.

Sam straightened his shoulders. “As a humble county sheriff, I’m much obliged to let federal agents take on Rawson. Not me. No, sir.”

Anne rolled her eyes. “Noted.”

***

Marian arrived Friday night and went straight to bed.

Anne woke up first on Saturday. She made bacon and coffee and waffles and set out honey and jam and syrup. Marian appeared at eight a.m., showered and dressed for the day.

“Did you make this?” Marian asked.

“Yes. We have a waffle iron,” Anne said.

“‘We.’ You never even ate breakfast before.”

“It’s a pleasant way to start the day.”

Marian settled in at the kitchen island. She surveyed the food. “No whipped cream?”

“Just eat your jam,” Anne said.

Marian smirked. She put a waffle onto the plate in front of her and picked up a knife and fork. “When will Ann be up?”

Anne grinned. “The eternal question. I’ll go to her at nine.”

Marian nodded. She ate some waffle. She glanced around.

Anne sipped coffee. “What is it?”

“It’s so quiet. Can we turn the news on?”

Anne arched her eyebrows. “I usually read the papers.”

“Papers plural?”

“Lot of small towns around here.” Anne went into the living room and turned on the TV.

“Who has time to read the paper?” Marian’s disbelief followed her.

Anne turned the channel to the state’s news channel. “Now you can get an incorrect weather report every ten minutes.”

Marian scoffed. She went back to eating her waffles.

Anne peeled a banana and shrugged.

***

Ann came down on her own at nine, sleepy but dressed. She kissed Marian’s cheek and then Anne’s. “How’re you? I didn’t hear yelling.”

Anne smirked.

“Anne bribed me with waffles.”

“She knows the way to a woman’s heart,” Ann said.

Anne studied her tablet. The _Wilmington Star-News_ had reported on their murder, with a profile on Douglas Stark and his wife and their terrier puppy. It did not mention a cause of death.

Ann meticulously cut a waffle in half, put a half on her plate, and drowned it in syrup.

“What are we going to do today?” Marian asked cheerfully.

“Do?” Anne asked.

Ann chewed, looking curiously at Marian.

“Surely we’re going to do something.”

“We can look at the gardens,” Ann said.

“Play with the dogs,” Anne said.

Marian grimaced at the mention of the dogs. “I didn’t bring my laptop. I fully intended to unplug. But now, facing the thought of unplugging...”

“Tomorrow we’ll go to church,” Anne said helpfully.

“Great.” Marian sighed.

***

Marian put down her chick lit vampire novel that she’d pulled from Ann’s shelves—in the second floor sitting room, not the library, that had been taken over by Anne’s oafish history and science books. She was already halfway through. The dogs, promised entertainment, were sleeping in the sun. Of course, Anne’s dog was the most-unremarkable, scruffy one. Marian was partial to the golden retriever. It seemed the most friendly and non-threatening, with its big doggy grin.

Anne came onto the shaded porch. She set a glass next to Marian. “Gin and tonic?”

“Thank you.” Marian piked up the glass and took a sip. “With lime and salt?”

“Just the way you like it. You salt weirdo. Anyway, it’ll help you relax.”

“What makes you think I need relaxing?” Marian asked.

Anne dropped into the rocking chair next to her. “It took me a long time to settle into this routine. I was constantly unhappy and impatient. Sitting and squirming. But now it helps me clear my thoughts. Focus on what’s important.”

“What’s important?”

“Ann. Protecting Ann. Taking care of the people here.”

Marian looked around, not seeing people. She took another sip. The gin was sweet and bitter and refreshing. She inhaled deeply, like she did at yoga. She tried to relax. “I just feel like... there’s something I’m not doing.”

“What are you not doing?”

“Saturday afternoon is laundry time.”

Anne nodded.

“What if the entire banking system collapses?”

Anne gazed out at the dogs. “What if it does?”

“Jesus.” Marian pushed Anne’s arm. “I don’t believe for one moment your mind isn’t spinning with a thousand ideas.”

Anne pulled out her phone and pulled it up a news story about Douglas Stark. She passed it to Marian.

Marian put down her drink and read carefully, her brow furrowing. She passed the phone back. “What can we do? Are there leads? Who can we talk to?”

“No one, right now.”

“My God,” Marian said.

“When things are pretty shitty for a long time, they don’t get better fast.”

“All the more reason not to sit on our ass and let the grass grow,” Marian said.

“But that’s what we’re doing,” Anne said, with the air of an older sister.

Marian crossed her arms and sat.

***

For dinner, Anne grilled ribeyes and corn and zucchini. They ate it on china in Ann’s dining area, which usually served as Anne’s workstation. Marian had brought wine—a heavy Merlot blend that lived up to the fat.

“Saint-Emilion?” Anne had asked.

“I felt no need to impress you,” Marian said.

After dinner they took a walk with the dogs, then settled back at the dining room table.

“Games?” Anne asked.

“I’m suspicious,” Marian said.

Ann nodded. “She’s ruthless. But beatable.”

“What are we playing? Pictionary? Settles of Catan?”

Anne procured a deck of cards and began taking out the lower-ranked cards. “Skat?”

Marian groaned.

“It’s nice to have three people,” Ann said.

“We get tired of 21,” Anne said.

Marian sipped her espresso. “So you, Ann, also know obscure German card games from the 1800s?”

“I went to finishing school,” Ann said.

Anne smirked.

“God, you really are matched. Let’s play a round robin of cribbage.”

“Maybe later,” Anne said.

“I have a beautiful board. Wait until you see it,” Ann said.

Marian scoffed and took the 32-card deck Anne handed her. “You bully.” She turned to Ann. “After mom died, we played a lot of three-person games. Whenever Anne came home from college, she’d learned a new one.”

Ann said, “Anne believes board games are for plebeians and children.”

Marian rolled her eyes.

Anne got up and refilled their coffee, and put a pad of paper and a pencil on the table. Then she sat down, and nudged Ann’s calf with her toe.

Ann beamed at her.

Marian sighed. “Okay.” She dealt the cards. “But we’re having more wine, right?”

“Once I win,” Anne said.

Anne was a conservative bidder, which irked Marian, who wanted to draw Anne out into risky bids. Ann rarely bid much, making her decisions based on her hand, rather than goading one of the sisters.

Thus, Anne won three games, but Marian won one game that sent her into the lead, and Ann drank coffee.

Anne handily won the fourth. She’d been dealt three jacks. “That’s why they call me ‘the Matador.’”

“Please stop,” Marian said.

“Why is it the madator, if it’s a German game?” Ann asked.

“Appropriation?” Marian supposed.

Anne shrugged.

“Do either of you speak German?” Ann asked.

Marian answered “Yes” as Anne answered “No.”

“Three years in high school, four years in college, two immersion trips to Germany,” Marian said.

“That’s what she does with her money,” Anne said.

Marian exhaled. “I am sorry, once again, that I don’t have the inclination to buy _Panthers_ tickets so you can come watch the game. Football is very droll.”

“De trop,” Ann said, agreeing.

“You speak French?” Marian asked.

“Not as well as Anne.”

“Well no one is part of the ‘aristocracy’ like Anne is,” Marian said.

Anne grumbled and dealt the cards. “Last round.”

Ann beamed over her cards, for the first time that night.

Anne caught the expression. “Great.” She tossed her cards down.

“What does that mean?” Marian asked, looking from Anne to Ann.

“She’s going to shank us,” Anne said.

“She can’t possibly win,” Marian said.

Ann pressed her lips together, smiling.

“She just does it for the pain,” Anne said. “We have to go through with it, or she’ll call us bad sports.”

“Oh no, not ‘bad sports,’” Marian said.

“I have my dignity,” Anne hissed.

“Geez, we haven’t even started taking tricks,” Ann said. “I could be lying.”

“You’re not lying,” Anne and Marian said together.

Ann announced  Schneider and Schwartz.

Anne buried her head in her hands.

Ann won the hand, Marian won the game.

Anne opened the second bottle of wine Marian had brought, a Washington State merlot. “I’m sensing a theme with these bottles,” Anne said.

“That’s why I called ahead about dinner.”

Anne poured three glasses equally as they all settled on the touch together. “ _Queer Eye?_ ” Ann asked.

“Marian likes documentaries. She’s going to show us her favorite one of late.” Anne said.

“She is?” Ann asked.

“And there’s nothing we can do about it,” Anne said.

Ann looked from Marian to Anne. “You two have learned some interesting compromises.”

“Shut up,” Anne said, as Marian tsked and shook her head.

Marian masterfully worked the remote. “‘ _The Great Hack’_ is about Cambridge Analytica.”

Ann looked pained.

Anne took a large sip of wine, and sighed.

Marian cackled as she hit ‘play.’

***

Anne woke with the sun, took ibuprofen for her hangover, made coffee, ran, drank coffee, served yogurt and granola to Marian, and then went back upstairs at nine to see to Ann.

Ann was awake, staring at the ceiling.

“Darling?” Anne asked, sitting on the bed.

“Not going to church,” Ann said, sounding as if she could barely get the words out.

“Okay. Toast?”

Ann nodded. She didn’t look at Anne. “Took my pills. Had to pee anyway.”

Anne patted the blanket-lump of Ann’s stomach. “Shall I tell Marian you’re indisposed?”

Ann heaved a heavy sigh. “Tell her the truth.”

“Really?”

“She’s family.”

“She’s Marian.”

Ann tilted her head to look at Anne. “She was really there for me. When you were... when you were hurt.” Her breath hitched on the last word. “I love her.”

“All right.”

Anne bought Ann cinnamon and sugar toast, and tea with milk. She left them on the bedside table. Ann’s eyes were closed, but she smiled when Anne kissed her forehead.

“Any message I need to pass on to the Lord today?” Anne asked.

“I mean, she’s right here, I can say whatever I want.”

“It’s not the same,” Anne said.

“Go away.”

***

Marian was glued to the morning news on the TV and God-knew-what-else on her phone.

Anne flopped down beside her on the couch. “We have several church options.”

“Church options?” Marian asked.

“My church, First Presbyterian, or Baptist Tabernacle.”

“I am not going to a church with ‘Tabernacle’ in its name.”

“Don’t be like that. They’re really nice. We would have to wear dresses, though.”

“Nope on that one. Let’s just go to your church, Anne. The one you’re going to get married in, right?”

“Anglican it is,” Anne said.

Marian leaned her head back on the couch. “We’re not Anglican, Anne.”

***

In the Prius fifteen minutes later, Marian glanced around uneasily. “I can’t help but notice Ann is not in the car.”

“She was unwell this morning. I’ll tell you while we drive.”

“Is it a long way?”

“Yup,” Anne said.

Marian sighed. “Why do you live here,” she said.

“I’m in love with Ann.”

“It was rhetorical,” Marian groused.

Anne eased the car onto the highway. “Ann—She—Uh.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Marian said.

“She asked me if I would,” Anne said.

“Okay. Then go on. Put it in FBI-speak if you have to.”

Anne could not contemplate ever describing or referring to Ann in FBI speak. She kept stumbling along in Anne instead. “She feels unwell sometimes. It keeps her in bed. Not all the time. Usually not all day.”

“Mentally or physically?”

“Mentally, mostly. But with physical symptoms. Obviously. The mind and the body—“

“Anne.”

“It’s not a big thing. Unless there’s something extraordinarily stressful, like her ridiculous family. Or new things.”

Marian contemplated.

They drove in silence.

Marian said, “When I came to pick her up at 4 AM that one time, she was pretty... normal girlfriend-ish.”

“She said you had to shake her.”

“It didn’t seem like a big deal.”

Anne smiled, glancing at Marian. “It’s not.”

“Sure she’s not just trying to play hooky at _Anglican_ church?”

Anne chuckled. “The guilt would eat her alive.”

“What’s guilt?”

Anne and Marian shared a smile.

Anne took a deep breath. “She has treatments once a month in Raleigh. She won’t tell me what they are. But she’s always weepy and exhausted after.” Her stomach twisted with vulnerability.

“Maybe it’s LSD.”

“What?”

“You know, the clinical trials for depression and LSD.”

“I think she’d tell me.”

“You’re a federal agent.”

Anne scoffed.

“Better than electro—“

“Don’t,” Anne said. “Don’t say it.”

Marian patted Anne’s arm.

Anne took a deep breath, pushing back the threat of tears. She coughed. “I’m surprised you’re not calling me the crazy one,” she said.

“You’re pedestrian crazy,” Marian said, to nettle Anne. “She’s got you beat, it sounds like.”

“Mm,” Anne said.

“And whipped,” Marian said, pleased.

Anne frowned and turned on the satellite radio. Country music began to play.

“Oh God, what is happening to you?” Marian asked.


	5. Chapter 5

“Pretty good kiss last night – her own bringing on. Not a word said by either of us.” - 25 April 1835, Anne Lister’s Diary

_Sunday_

Anne checked her watch. “Marian should be about home by now.”

“Mm.” Ann didn’t move. She was lying back against Anne’s chest on the couch.

The TV showed the Netflix screen saver.

“She exhausts me,” Anne said.

“Marian?”

“Yes. I always feel... on guard. On my toes.” Anne nuzzled Ann’s hair.

“She’s a perfectly lovely person.”

“Loud, though,” Anne insisted.

“Yes. The house almost seems too quiet now that she’s gone,” Ann said. “We should have people here more often. Adult people.”

Anne chuckled. “It seems lovely for a Sunday afternoon.”

“We should do something.”

“Like what?” Anne was content to do nothing. Ann was warm and soft in her arms, and smelled delicious. The sun made her languid.

“Well, if we’re going to nap, we should go upstairs. And.” Ann patted Anne’s thigh. “If we’re not going to take a nap, we should go upstairs.”

Anne didn’t need an engraved invitation. She shifted, but found herself unable to move against Ann’s persistent weight.

“And we should have afternoon cocktails,” Ann declared.

“We should? What kind?”

“You decide.” Ann pushed herself up, planting a hand solidly in Anne’s stomach.

“Do you want snacks, too? Little quiches?” Anne asked.

Ann stood up. She smoothed her shirt, and then leaned over and kissed Anne’s head. “Don’t want to spoil my dinner.”

They’d had a spectacular brunch with Marian. Anne couldn’t imagine what dinner might be. Maybe fruit salad with chocolate drizzle? Or street tacos with the remnants of lunch, lightly fried. Deep in thought, Anne didn’t realize that Ann had left until the footsteps going upstairs stopped echoing.

“Cocktails,” she muttered. She went into the kitchen and opened the lower cupboard that held liquor.

It had been inane of Ann to ask this of her, when Ann had clearly wanted sex. Leaving her downstairs, distracted, horny, losing all capability of thought—Ann had done it on purpose.

Anne pursed her lips. The realization left her core on fire. She quickly picked up the bottle of Absolut and stuck two glasses into the freezer to chill.

Then she got the caramel they used for ice cream out, squirted some into a bowl, and stuck it into the microwave.

This was taking entirely too long. Ann was up there, waiting. Anne pictured her naked. Pictured her clothed. Pictured her masturbating—

The microwave beeped.

Anne cursed. She took the glasses out of the freezer, where they’d frosted. She poured an ounce of vodka into each, then spooned in caramel and stirred. The liquid turned a muddy brown color. She opened up the fridge and got the apple cider James had brought them, from some farm up in the mountains, and after dropping in some ice, finished off the glasses with cider.

This was more a dessert than a cocktail. Maybe they’d ruin their dinner after all.

She put the glasses on a silver tray with a sprig of rosemary and went upstairs.

Ann was naked.

She was in their unmade bed, sitting up, reading Anne’s _Upper Room_.

Anne somehow had the strength to walk toward her and set the tray on the bedside table. “Pre-sex reading?”

Ann licked her lips. “Incline your ear, O Lord, and answer me, for I am poor and needy.” She emphasized _needy._ The word sang in Anne’s ears.

“You can’t—I think that’s illegal.” Anne sat on the bed.

Ann picked up a glass and took a sip, peering at Anne over it. After a taste, she said. “I had a bet with myself that you’d choose something seasonally appropriate.”

“I had half a mind to ignore your request and come upstairs to ravish you instead.”

“What stopped you?” Ann asked.

Anne considered. “I liked the challenge.”

Ann looked pleased.

“That doesn’t mean,” Anne said, pulling off her shirt. “That I’m not going to do whatever I want to you.”

Ann said nothing. Took another long, generous sip of her drink, and then set the glass down. “This is delicious.”

Anne dropped her bra. She scooted closer to Ann, still wearing her jeans.

“Do you want to taste it?” Ann asked.

“Yes.” Anne kissed her.

Ann grinned against the kiss, offering herself to Anne, apple and caramel on her tongue.

Anne leaned into her, breasts pressed together, letting Ann hold her up, tangle fingers in her hair, hold her against Ann’s mouth. She felt like she hadn’t kissed Ann in a thousand years. She wasn’t willing to wait another thousand. She twisted, putting one arm around Ann’s waist, pulling her closer.

“Anne,” Ann breathed against her lips.

Anne kissed her again, and then kissed her cheek, her jaw, her neck. Ann’s head tilted back. She pulled Anne’s hair until Anne groaned.

The teasing desire Anne had felt in the kitchen was nothing compared to the overwhelming force she felt now. She guided Ann onto her back, arching over her.

Ann accepted Anne’s jean-clad thigh between her legs, rocked her hips to greet it.

Anne found herself under Ann’s spell, still, despite the declaration to have her way. She crouched above Ann, bringing her body mostly out of range, except for her pressing thigh.

Ann gripped her shoulders. “Anne. Please.”

Anne kissed Ann’s chin. She gazed into Ann’s hungry gaze.

“I am devoted to you,” Ann said.

Anne bent down to kiss her, then paused. “Is that from the psalm?”

Ann grinned. “I lift up my soul to you.”

“So hot,” Anne kissed her lips, broke away when Ann’s mouth opened. “So wrong.”

“Listen to my cry of supplication.”

Ann’s pleading voice broke Anne. She lowered herself, letting Ann have her weight, her skin, her need.

Ann hugged her, forcing Anne to balance her elbows above Ann’s head, caught in Ann’s grip. Ann rocked against Anne’s hips. Her breathing deepened. Anne knew it wouldn’t be enough for Ann.

Ann keened against her ear. “Please,” she asked again.

Anne thought of their recent conversation. Of soon having a dildo, shoving it in, seeing if Ann could really take all of her, if Ann would be doubly insatiable.

“You have to let me go,” Anne said.

“No.”

Anne shifted her weight slightly to one side, reaching between their bodies for Ann’s clit. But it was too tight between them. She couldn’t get close enough. “Ann.”

Ann’s grip loosened. “This would be easier if—“

“I know.” Anne rose up, covering Ann’s mouth with hers, taking kisses. Her hand slid between Ann’s legs, finding her wet and swollen and desperate for Anne. She stroked.

Ann bit into her lip, hurting her. Anne thrust two fingers into Ann in response.

They both groaned. Ann’s eyes fluttered closed.

Anne kept her gaze on Ann’s flushed face. She fucked Ann, pressing the heel of her hand to Ann’s clit, moving more with Ann’s thrusting hips than her own volition.

“Anne.” Ann moaned. She let go of Anne completely, and then found her hair again, pulling her into an urgent kiss.

Anne sank onto Ann, adding strength to her fingers, moving inside Ann.

Ann’s gasps and cries echoed in the room. Anne rocked the bed underneath her. Drove into Ann until Ann’s cries became a single wail. Anne felt Ann stiffen under her. She eased her thrusts.

Ann swallowed. Opened her eyes. Smiled at Anne.

Anne withdrew. Ann winced. Anne fell to her side, kissed Ann lightly, wiped damp fingers on her stomach.

“Any more quotes?” Anne asked.

“Be gracious to me.” Ann smirked.

Anne sat up, crossing her legs, picking up her own drink. The ice had half-melted, but the liquid was cool and refreshing going down her through. She nearly purred.

“Take off your jeans,” Ann said.

“In a minute.” Anne took another sip.

Ann huffed.

Anne finished her drink and picked up Ann’s and sipped.

“I want you,” Ann said.

“Oh?” Anne played demure.

“In a thousand ways.”

***

_Thursday morning_

Anne shut her laptop. She let her eyes unfocus. She’d been looking at financial records of the Rawsons for four days—her weekend with Marian a distant memory. She’d joined Gillian and Thomas in the main room. They, too, had this case as their top priority. Anne had hoped between the three of them they’d come up with some genius criminal evidence.

No such luck.

“I don’t think this is going to work,” Anne said. “With thousands of employees, they’ve created millions of financial records. Billions.”

“I think they would keep this in the executive circle,” Thomas said. “Maybe among family. Not every employee of the Rawsons Industrial empire gets to be in on the coup.”

“We’re calling it a coup now?” Gillian asked.

Thomas shrugged.

“We need a clue,” Anne said.

“Speak for yourself,” Gillian said.

Anne shook her head. “I mean, a lead. A direction to go in. Otherwise it’s just searching for one atom in the universe. Can’t be done. Operation Venus Flytrap is dead before it starts.”

“Maybe an AI?” Thomas asked.

“Only as good as the search we build for it. And right now we just have ‘bad stuff.’ They’ve been at this for forty years. Maybe even a few generations,” Anne said.

Thomas pursed his lips. “We have procedures—“

“Undercover,” Anne said, interrupting him. “I’ll go undercover.”

“There’s no way you’d get authorization for that,” Gillian said.

“I’ll just act like Frank Haleton. He’s a corrupt piece of shit. Maybe he’ll even let me interview him up at his lakehouse,” Anne said. “He must know something.”

“I don’t like where this is going,” Thomas said.

“It’s for my sister,” Anne said.

“All the more reason—“ Thomas started.

“We have to do something,” Anne said.

Gillian looked down at her hands.

“GIS data,” Thomas said. “Maybe we can figure out where they’re planning this stuff. Maybe what land they’re buying up. Only thousands of warehouses, and only hundreds of property records.” Thomas grinned.

“Okay.” Anne took a deep breath. “That’s a good idea.”

“Can I get overtime?” Thomas asked.

“No.”

“Can I get an assistant?”

Gillian raised her hand.

“This is all we’ve got,” Anne said. She got up. “I’m going back into my office.”

Anne went into her office, leaving the door open. She sat down at her desk and pulled out a legal pad and a pen. If she were going to go undercover, where would be the best place to start…

***

_Thursday evening_

Anne dropped her grocery bag on the kitchen island and went out to the living room, where Ann sat on the couch, turned in her direction, smiling.

Anne melted under that smile, felt warm as she dropped onto the couch next to Ann, blushed as she accepted a kiss.

“Ann, I was wondering,” Anne launched into the speech she’d been practicing on the drive, “If you could get us invited to Harriet Parkhill’s next thing. Soiree.” Anne gestured dramatically.

Ann’s expression turned cold. She stood up. “Let’s just move to D.C. It’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Anne flushed hot, immediately offended, confused. Only her training anchored her to the couch. She made her expression neutral, overcoming a childhood of screaming at Marian and her father, demanding they understand her.

“God! I know you’re miserable here.” Ann paced to the television, and then turned back to Anne, cheeks pink, eyes wide.

“Ann,” Anne tried. She was unprepared for the onslaught.

“Harriet Parkhill, a real socialite, not some crippled thing with money. Well, I have money, let’s use it and live in Georgetown.”

Anne winced at _cripple._ She had come home with a plan and Ann had apparently been concocting quite another.

“Ann,” she tried again. “It’s for my sister.”

“What?”

Apparently Marian hadn’t been in Ann’s narrative.

“For Marian. You know, because of the Rawsons and her bank.”

“Oh.” Ann deflated slightly.

“Come sit down?”

Ann did, settling on the couch and picking up a half-drunk glass of wine, taking a sip, and then looking steadily at Anne.

“What on Earth, Ann?” Anne asked.

Ann gave a little laugh. She looked away.

“Please tell me,” Anne said. Her defensiveness was mutating into concern. Ann was not a woman of outbursts. Nor speeches, as this seemed to be.

“Isn’t that what you want? More?”

“More than this?” Anne glanced around the house, wondering where the dogs were. She longed to bury her face in Buddy’s rough fur.

Ann pursed her lips, pensive.

“More than you?” Ann asked.

“I live in the middle of nowhere, and you’re...out there. In the world.”

This was well-trod ground, and Anne didn’t appreciate it not being a settled matter. _I love it here. I want to marry you_. Anne could see that Ann wasn’t going to be calmed by any of that. “What brought this on?”

Ann smiled and looked at the ceiling. “Marian. I guess we’re almost on the same subject. You two were so in-sync, so worldly. It was something... I didn’t feel a part of. And then she went home and you went back to work for a week.”

“I’m sure Marian felt the same way about us,” Anne said.

“She probably couldn’t stop rolling her eyes. Farmhouse. Stray animals everywhere. Shabby little—“

“Marry me,” Anne said. The wrong thing to say and she knew it, as Ann stood again, frowned sharply at her. Anne wanted to take Ann by the shoulders and shake her own passion into Ann, make her understand her heart and her brain—but when had anyone done that?

“No. That won’t solve anything. We’ll just have a miserable marriage.”

“Says who?”

“Your parents. My parents. Elizabeth,” Ann said, as if it were self-evident.

Anne was in arguing mode, reasoning mode. She stood, too, but kept herself still. “I am trying to express a commitment to you.”

“You’re not. You just want a wife. I have never wanted to be anyone’s ‘wife.’Not Thomas Ainsworth, not Alexander MacKenzie. And then you come along...” Ann exhaled.

“I come along?” Anne took a step toward Ann.

“And confuse me.” Ann sighed. “What do you want, Anne?”

Anne gently took Ann by the shoulders “I don’t want for anything.”

Ann frowned, but met her gaze. “You must.”

“I’d like to get married. I’d like to help my sister. I’d like Charles Lawton to burn in Hell. But overall, I’m happy, Ann. Don’t you know that?”

Ann’s eyes held unshed tears. “I suppose, but I don’t know why.”

Anne drew Ann closer and kissed her forehead. “Neither do I.”

Ann exhaled another deep breath, and then wrapped herself around Anne’s waist.

“Ann. Aren’t you supposed to be good at dealing with uncertainty?”

“When I get scared, I revert to bad habits.”

“Mm. Don’t we all.”

“So we’re not moving to D.C.?”

“No.”

“And we’re living in this prison of a farmhouse forever and ever?”

“For the time being,” Anne said.

Ann laughed. She squeezed Anne, and then looked over Anne’s shoulder. “Dinner?”

“Yes, but, Ann.” Anne drew away and gestured to Ann’s wine glass. “What is that?”

“Chardonnay?”

“The only chardonnay we have in the house... is what guests drink.” Smooth and friendly to the palette, harmless, palpable. The difference between white cheddar and the cheese that smelled like mold and funk. _Inexpensive wine._

“I was punishing myself,” Ann said.

“For what?”

“For doubt.”

“Your doubt is up to you. I’ve done all I can.”

“I know.” Ann frowned and went into the kitchen. She began emptying the grocery bag. A baguette, a block of cheese, paper-wrapped salami, cucumber relish. She began setting them out.

Anne went to the fridge and pulled out the pepper jelly, the Asheville mustard, the slightly-wrinkled grapes. She sat down at the kitchen island.

Ann got plates, and grinned at her.

“Let’s forgo Netflix tonight,” Anne said. “Let’s just talk.”

“Okay.”

They talked for hours, nibbling antipasto.

“Let’s talk in bed,” Ann suggested, when the food was back in the fridge and the dirty dishes were stacked in the sink.

“Okay,” Anne said.

But in bed they didn’t talk at all, but made love with whispering sighs and tightly-controlled moans, and curled up together still tasting like pepperoni and truffle oil, and fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slam on chardonnay out of nowhere.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ann's day.

_Monday_

Ann had become a good driver. She was confident. She was moving in a straight line. So why was James making that face at her? Something between amusement and disappointment was in his gaze.

“I’m doing great!”

“You’re moving at idle speed. Try accelerating.”

Ann pressed the gas pedal. The Jeep lurched forward. She let up her foot and resumed the comfortable speed. James reeked of pot. He obviously didn’t know what he was doing.

“Again,” he said.

“We’ll go into the creek,” she said. They were trundling along the grass path that led away from the farmhouse.

“It’s a half-mile away. Press again. _Slowly._ “

She lowered her foot. The Jeep sped up gracefully, like a music crescendo. Then, almost suddenly, it was too fast. She slammed her foot on the brake. The car jerked to a halt.

James sighed. “We’ve been doing this for three weeks.”

“Maybe I’m not meant to drive.”

“Any idiot—Look. Press the pedal for three seconds, and then coast for at least five seconds.”

“We’ll hit the creek.”

“Please. Just try.”

Ann squared her shoulders and looked straight ahead. “I’m ready.”

“Push.”

Ann pushed.

“One...two...three.”

Ann let up on the pedal, and then let the Jeep coast as James counted.

She felt relief, but no panic, as James said, “Okay, gently brake.”

She brought the car to a halt.

“Good,” James said. “Now do that while watching your speed, checking your side and rear mirrors, and talking to your passenger.”

Ann frowned.

***

“I’d like to ask you something,” Elizabeth said through the phone, after the pleasantries had been exchanged.

Ann rolled her eyes, glad Elizabeth couldn’t see her. “Of course.” She sat in the kitchen.

“I’m hoping you can take the boys for Halloween week.”

“Take them where?”

A pause. Elizabeth cleared her throat. “To your farmhouse.”

“Oh.”

“Just Charles and Evan. The younger children will stay at my in-laws. George and I really want to take a trip.”

“A trip to where?”

“Europe.”

Jealousy twisted in Ann’s stomach. Surely Elizabeth couldn’t have better adventures than herself. She rallied.

“How nice. Yes, I’d love to see the boys.”

“Fabulous. We’ll get them plane tickets. Uh, what’s the best airport?”

“Wherever you can get a direct flight,” Ann said.

There were things Ann should have said to Elizabeth. Obvious things like that Anne would be there as well, and less obvious things like her fosters and James would be company. Or the fact that Elizabeth had called Ann crazy and unstable more than once. Ann kept her mouth shut, already imagining what she and her nephews could do for fun.

“Any allergies?” Ann asked.

“I’ll email you.”

 _I’ll email you_ , Ann mimicked, making a face in the refrigerator’s reflection.

“I’m only sorry we won’t be seeing you,” Elizabeth said. “Maybe for Christmas...?”

Dread filled Ann. She said, “One holiday at a time. Are you sure the boys wouldn’t rather be home for Halloween? There’s not very much trick-or-treating in the middle of nowhere.”

“We wanted to get the cheapest flights,” Elizabeth said.

“Oh,” Ann said.

“You’re a peach,” Elizabeth said. “Love you.”

“Yeah, you too.”

Ann hung up and started considering the best way to break the news to Aunty Lister.

***

“I’m home,” Anne announced jauntily, coming into the house and dropping her phone on the kitchen island.

Since she kept house at Ann’s and kept her laptop and guns in the trunk of her car, she traveled light when she went inside.

Ann had been waiting, leaning on the island, accepting a kiss from Anne. “Hello, darling.”

“What’s for dinner?” Anne asked. She had one hand on the wine rack, waiting to pair.

“I made flatbreads from scratch and then filled them with whatever we had lying around the house,” Ann said.

Anne lifted her hand from the wine rack and went to the chiller. “Rose. Sparkling?”

“Anne Lister, it’s always a yes when it comes to sparkling.”

Anne grinned. She pulled a bottle out and then set it on the counter, and went for the champagne flutes.

The oven beeped.

Ann donned large blue gloves and pulled out a sheet from each of the ovens.

“How many did you make?” Anne asked, setting down the glasses.

“Ten?”

Anne peered. “All different kinds?”

“Yes. Even a cajun one. I’m a little skeptical. We had shrimp and sausage in the freezer.”

Anne leaned closer to one, and sniffed. “Buffalo chicken?”

“Yup.” Ann smiled, willing Anne with her mind to stop salivating over the food and open the wine instead. The way Anne unwrapped the foil, twisted the cork—the popping sound—her hands deftly managing everything—was a true erotic experience for Ann. She licked her lips, and hoped that fizz would spill over Anne’s fingers. It rarely did. Anne was too careful.

“What?” Anne asked, squinting at her.

“Open the wine,” Ann said.

“Oh.” She twisted the screw. “ _Oh.”_

“We can’t skip dinner. I really want to eat the pepper jelly and brie one,” Ann said.

“A nice dinner sounds...nice.” Anne faltered, nearly dropping the bottle. She had never liked an audience, and Ann had been told her gaze was intense.

Anne twisted. The cork came out with a soft sound and no spillage.

Ann groaned, disappointed.

“What did you do today,” Anne asked as she poured.

“I uh—“ Ann had been tracing Anne’s jaw with her eyes. “Oh, I talked to my sister.”

“How’s Elizabeth?” Anne asked, turning away to get plates and silverware.

“Who? Oh. Fine.” With Anne’s back turned, Ann could only admire her shoulders, the slightly bony feel of them, the hollow in the right one that Ann could press her lips to—

“Did she have any news to report?” Anne placed a plate in front of Ann and handed her a pizza cutter.

 _Dangerou_ s _._

“The boys are coming for Halloween.”

“Elizabeth’s boys?” Ann perched on a stool next to Ann.

Ann could smell the faint traces of sweat and ink Anne’s day at work had left on her. “Charles and Evan. The ones we saw at the Fourth of July.”

“That’s lovely. Won’t they be bored?”

Ann’s lips curved into a smile. She met Anne’s amused gaze. “That’s what I said.”

“I’m sure we’ll think of something,” Anne said.

 _We_.

“Try the pear and arugula one. It’s the healthiest.” Ann used the pizza cutter to slice it into four triangles.

Anne picked up one dutifully. “It has Alfredo sauce on it,” she said.

Ann grinned. “Okay, not that healthy.” She picked up her glass of wine, watched Anne eat heartily, and felt very proud of herself.

***

They walked in the garden. Dusk came earlier, but it was still hot enough to get sticky with sweat as Anne frowned over pansies and dahlias and wondered when to plant bulbs.

When the motion-sensor lights came on, they wandered back toward the house.

“Hey, whose Jeep is in the front?” Anne asked.

Ann bit her tongue. “James. He came over earlier and then walked back.” She watched Anne for signs of suspicion but Anne shrugged, and asked Ann about day lilies.

Ann had thought her gardens lovely until Anne came, and now it was more, more, more. She had to admit, the results were beautiful.

Inside, Ann headed toward the stairs. “Upstairs?”

“It’s only 8:30,” Anne said.

“Plenty of time, then,” Ann said. She trotted up the stairs.

Anne came charging up after her, and they were even by the time they reached the top.

“I’m going to shower,” Anne said, and disappeared.

Anne preferred making love in bed to groping downstairs on the couch. A lesson Ann had learned after too many frustrated attempts during reruns of _FBI._ Ann wasn’t sure if Anne was paranoid about people watching through the windows or whether Anne thought it uncouth, but Ann had learned that when she wanted sex, it was best to get Anne upstairs early.

Ann didn’t shower, but brushed her teeth, unclasped her hair, and pulled down the sheets. She nearly quivered in anticipation. Whatever Anne gave her wasn’t enough. It might never be.

The water shut off.

Ann opened the bedside table drawer and pulled out lube. She considered the blindfold, and then towels, and decided tonight she would be too impatient for either.

She needed Anne. Anne’s strong hands and insistent kisses. Anne’s thighs, flexing against her. Anne’s hair tickling her shoulders.

Anne came out, wrapped in a towel, surveyed the bedroom, went and hung the towel back up.

“Hungry, Ann?”

Ann shivered at the timbre of her words. “Just come here.”

Anne came to bed and stretched out beside her. “You smell like oregano.”

Ann grinned. Anne kissed her, minty. Then drew back.

“I haven’t bought a dildo yet,” Ann said. “But I want you inside me.”

Anne’s fingers slid over Ann’s thigh.

“Do you think you could fist me?” Ann asked.

“No.” Anne’s gaze widened.

Ann pouted.

Anne dropped her lips to Ann’s ear. “You’re far too tight.”

Ann whimpered.

“Do you think about this all day?” Anne asked.

“Yes.”

Anne kissed her, fierce and insistent, and reached between Ann’s legs.

Ann knew the wetness Anne would find there, the arousal that had been gathering since Anne presented pink sparkling wine, and Ann had been viscerally reminded of how strong Anne was, how delicate something explosive was in her hands.

Like Ann herself. She canted her hips, offering herself to Anne, and then clung to Anne’s shoulders when Anne pulled away.

“Lube should never be an afterthought,” Anne said.

Ann watched in tortured patience as Anne gathered the lube onto her fingers, warmed it, and then slipped between Ann’s legs again, and onto Ann, her mouth touching Ann’s lips and cheeks as lightly as her fingers slid into Ann.

At first, it wasn’t enough, it was too much of a tease, and Ann pulled at Anne’s shoulders and hair until Anne added more fingers, and Ann could _feel_ and she spread her legs wider.

Anne kissed her breasts until Ann’s nipples tightened, demanding their own pleasure from Anne, fighting with the sensations of Anne pushing into her. Ann twisted. “Anne,” she complained, not knowing for what.

Anne re-appeared at her mouth. “Slow down,” she whispered against Ann’s lips.

“What?” Ann thrust against Anne’s hand.

“Relax.”

Ann’s whole body was on fire, had been for most of the evening, and now Anne was telling her to relax? She made an attempt, slowing her hips, letting her neck rest on the pillow instead of craning her neck.

Anne rewarded her by swiping over her clit.

“Oh,” Ann said.

“I’ve got you,” Anne said.

Their movements were more in sync. As Ann forced herself to relax further, Anne’s fingers slipped deeper into her.

“Oh,” Ann said again.

“I think about you all day,” Anne said. “Just like this.” She kissed Ann’s temple, and then her ear.

They were connected. Ann wished for Anne to be fully on top of her, but knew from many attempts that Anne’s movements would become sloppier, fainter, and what was going on now was perfect. So Ann complied, rocking against Anne, holding on, knowing Anne wouldn’t let her go, wouldn’t let her find herself alone in this.

She didn’t have to say “More” or “There.” Just “Anne.” Again and again. Anne knew her. Anne knew how to answer questions that hadn’t been asked, how to respond to needs that hadn’t been voiced.

When Ann felt completely in sync with Anne, completely settled into her own body in the present, when everything had loosened in her, she came, arching up into Anne without tensing, allowing the trembling and the shocks to fall on her. An orgasm, messy and untamed, and Anne purring into her ear.

A few moments later, when she was bereft of Anne’s fingers and sight had returned, she cocked her head in Anne’s direction, and smiled lazily.

“Tremendous,” Anne said.

Ann stretched. “So you’re not going to write ‘tolerable’ in your diary again?”

“That was one time, and we were very tired,” Anne said.

“Mm.”

“And you smelled like cabbage.”

“The German restaurant was your idea, Anne.”

“Well. Not one of my better ones.”

Ann chuckled and brought Anne down for a long kiss. Then she said, “You’re on the wrong side.”

“This is my side.”

“I mean, I’m lying on my dominant arm,” Ann said.

With a huff, Anne vaulted over Ann and stretched out on Ann’s left side. They resumed kissing.

Ann rolled into Anne, using her freed fingers to trace Anne’s breast. “See? Better.”

“I thought logistics was my thing,” Anne said.

Ann nipped Anne’s bottom lip. “I’m learning.”

Anne bent for another kiss, their chests pressed together, their knees intertwined. Ann’s fingers traced lower. “You shouldn’t have showered.”

“No?” Anne asked, eyes half-lidded, nipples hard, hand lightly on Ann’s hip.

“I like the taste of you.” Ann kissed her mouth. “When you haven’t.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ann wants to play spy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No promises that I'll be less absent. Go vote.

The creamy, fresh smell of Caesar dressing greeted Anne as she came through the door. She slipped off her shoes, then went and dumped her bag in the library. The dining room table where she usually worked was set for two, with candles and a bold New Zealand sauvignon blanc bottle. Anne could almost taste the grapefruit.

She licked her lips.

Ann, who rarely ate before meeting Anne, and nothing that wasn’t supplied by James or pre-prepared grocery items, except for the occasional Russian tea cake, had embraced cooking for Anne in their five months together. Anne knew if she peeked in the fridge she’d find shrimp ready to go in the pan, awaiting only her arrival.

Ann came through the back door, carrying a handful of daisies. “Anne, you’re home!” She brightened, striding over to Anne and kissing the corner of her mouth. “I cooked.”

“I see that.” Anne’s lips tingled as Ann darted away to put the daisies in a vase on the table. “Is it a special occasion?”

_Are you proposing?!_

“No. Yes. Sort of. You’ll see.” Ann’s grin was bright.

Anne shrugged out of her suit jacket and draped it over the stair railing.

“Cook the shrimp?” Ann asked.

“Okay.” Anne went to the stove, where there was already butter in a pan. She turned the burner on. “Any special way?”

“Blackened seasoning.”

Anne’s favorite. “Okay. What are you going to do?”

Ann poured wine. “Sit here and watch you.”

Anne’s ears burned. She focused on cooking, not looking over her shoulder. Ann would be sitting with intense focus. Anne wanted to at least eat before sex. One of her boundaries when dealing with the insatiable Ann Walker.

Anne flipped the shrimp. “How was your day?”

“Brilliant. I talked to Harriet Parkhill on the phone for nearly an hour.”

“Lovely,” Anne said distractedly. She took Romaine, parmesan, and the Caesar dressing out of the fridge and began assembling salads.

“She’s invited us to the Ralston Harvest Festival,” Ann said.

“Us?”

“Yes, you and I. We can spy on them together.”

Anne went cold. She set down the bowls and turned to face Ann. “It’s too dangerous.”

Ann’s brow furrowed. “A harvest festival with my snooty relatives?”

“You getting involved in Marian’s case. I won’t have it. I’ll go and—“

“You need me,” Ann said.

“What?”

“You need me. You won’t be as _efficient_ without my help.”

Anne realized with dismay that Ann had been planning what to say. She brought the salads over to the table, sat down, and poured herself a large glass of wine. She met Ann’s gaze.

Ann was unsmiling; determined.

“I don’t like this,” Anne said.

“I know.”

“I’ll never be able to forgive myself if you get hurt.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Ann said.

“It doesn’t matter?”

“Leave emotion out of it. This is the best approach. It’s practical.”

“Ann—“ Anne started, already defeated.

“We can pick apples.”

“You’re not getting laid tonight.”

Anne pouted. “We should have had flank steak on our salads, then. No need to keep it light.”

“Mm.” Anne ate, and wondered, as she often seemed to with Ann, how to escape this with both dignity and relationship intact.

Ann ate with satisfaction.

“You’re a menace,” Anne said.

“I hope Uncle Christopher thinks so.”

***

Ann drove with confidence at 15 mph down a dirt road on her farm. James sat next to her. He was quiet, pensive. When she’d hit the brakes too hard and flung him against the dash, he’d only yelped. No recriminations. Not even a dirty look.

“James, what’s on your mind?”

He rubbed his face. “It’s personal. Don’t worry about it.”

Ann reached the end of the road and executed a slow three-point turn.

“Do we have ‘that’s personal,’ in our vocabulary, James?”

He exhaled forcefully. “I don’t want to burden you, Ann.”

“I’m not the girl you used to know.”

“I know. I guess so. It’s just...You know Douglas Stark? That guy they found in the river a few days ago?”

“Yes.” Ann squeezed the steering wheel. She didn’t want to explain how she knew the name.

“His cousin is one of my high school friends. He’s taking it bad. Real bad. He was living over their garage, and Douglas’s wife apparently kicked him out after some big fight.”

“Okay,” Ann said.

James saw she was listening, and continued. “He’s Adam Yant. He wants to come stay with me. Everyone else has turned him down.”

“Why?”

“Why do you think? He’s an addict. He says he’ll stay clean when he’s here but...what if he doesn’t? What if he drags me back? But I owe him. He really took care of me in high school, when I wasn’t taking care of myself. I could have ended up in the river, too.”

_Not murdered by the Ralstons_.

“James, if you want my blessing, you have it.”

“What if he robs you?”

“What if he robs you, James?”

James sighed.

They were almost back at the farmhouse.

“It’s time, Ann. Get on the road?”

“The road? No.”

“Yes. Drive me to Dunkins and we can talk some more. I’ll buy you a donut.”

“Dunkin?”

“We can practically walk, Ann. You’ll be fine.”

Ann drove around the house and carefully edged one wheel onto the road. Nobody was coming. She drove forward with a little jerk. The car was fully on the road and thankfully, between the lines.

“See?” James said.

Ann felt terror and power at the same time. She gently pressed on the accelerator.

“Check your mirrors, Ann.”

“I already did,” Ann said, surprising herself.

“Great. Turn left at the stoplight.”

“My first stoplight,” Ann said in awe.

“I’ll take a picture,” James said.

***

Arm-in-arm, Anne strolled through the gardens with Ann. Sunset would be in an hour. Anne had changed into her only pair of shorts and a sweatshirt. Ann retained her flowy, flower-patterned dress.

They had expanded into a new plot, just in front of the forest edge. Anne considered what bulbs to buy. Planting would be soon.

Then she focused on the feeling of Ann’s skin against hers, and tried not to think of logistical problems It was challenging. For a distraction, she asked, “Penny for your thoughts?”

Ann chuckled, giving Anne a squeeze. “No thoughts. Just admiring the turning leaves.”

A touch of yellow appeared here and there across the trees.

“It’s quite beautiful,” she said, although she didn’t feel it.

Ann stopped and turned to face Anne, looking up into her broad face. “Have you forgiven me for interfering in your life?”

Anne grinned. “You were doing that before I even met you.”

Ann impishly kissed the corner of Anne’s mouth. Anne drew her closer, arms wrapped around her waist.

“I do have a thought about the gardens, though, since we’re out here.”

Ann pursed her lips. “Of course you do, dearest.”

“What about walls? A wall between the edge and the tree line. Then we could have more bushes. Maybe a bird bath. Sundial?”

“No sundials. Not after _S-Town._ ” Ann gave a shudder Anne didn’t quite understand.

“Okay. Wall?” Anne danced her fingers alone Ann’s back enticingly.

“It’s not the fashion.” Ann considered. “I’ll consider it if you take me to England and show me some examples.”

Anne grinned, and brought her mouth to Ann’s. The kiss was long and languid. Sweet. Growing hungry.

“I’ve definitely forgiven you,” Anne breathed.

Ann had been patient with her. She’d been demure, unteasing, for a whole day, but now her desire showed itself in the way she led Anne through the back door and up the stairs. The way she pushed Anne into a seated position on the bed and straddled her lap, kissing her once more, and not stopping.

Anne parted her lips to the eager tongue, already growing heady with arousal. She slid Ann’s dress up her thigh. Ann was sitting on the fabric. Anne growled in frustration.

Ann laughed and kissed Anne’s ear, and then her neck. Uncooperative.

Anne hoisted her up by the hips and tossed her onto her back. Then, freed, she stood up. She pulled off her sweatshirt, and then her bra, and then her shorts and boxers.

Ann bit her lip devilishly, smirking, still in that damn dress.

Anne crouched over her, kissed her. Ann slid her hands over Anne’s shoulders, down her arms, over her ass.

“You feel good,” Ann said.

“Mm.” Anne rolled to her side. “Take that thing off.”

Ann pushed herself up. “You can’t?”

“I tried.”

Ann grinned. She got on her knees, and with one smooth motion, pulled her dress over her head. There was nothing underneath.

Anne’s breath caught.

Ann settled on her side, facing Anne, stroking her arm. “This is our natural state.”

Anne’s mind went to biology, but she knew Ann’s comment was spiritual. She cupped Ann’s face with her free hand. “I love you.”

Ann beamed. She scooted closer, so that their breasts were touching. Their legs entangled.

Anne traced her fingers over Ann’s chin, down over her breasts, brushing the nipples until Ann hissed. Then down her stomach, dipping between her legs. Wetness greeted her, and a sound. A keening moan. Ann’s forehead pressed to hers.

Anne moved through the silky wetness. She explored without pressure.

In retaliation, Ann dug her fingers into Anne’s arm. “Please, Anne, I’ve needed you for so long.”

“Okay,” Anne whispered against Ann’s lips. She pushed two fingers into Ann with a long, slow stroke. Ann’s toes against Anne’s calf curled. Ann let out another moan.

In a moment, Ann would be on her back, arching for a deeper touch. Her shoulders would tremble. She would respond to every touch of Anne’s lips with a moan or a hiss or a soft cry.

Anne would fuck her, desperate to feel Ann clenching around her, loving the sweat that beaded her collarbone.

In a moment, all would come undone. They would be left in their natural, spiritual state.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an FYI, they've found a diary of Ann Walker's at the archive. https://twitter.com/annechoma


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne and Ann attend the Rawson Harvest Festival.

Thomas lowered his head under the shower spray, letting the water slide down his back. He’d had a dream about Douglas Stark. Eyes wide open and filmed over, floating in the swamp under an indifferent moon. Thomas had sprung awake. He hadn’t been able to get back to sleep. He didn’t tell anyone about his dreams. His career was at stake.

But if he had a breakthrough for Special Agent Lister, maybe he could specialize in forensics. That would be a desk job. He’d use his mind. He’d leave the swamps to her.

It had been a week with no breakthrough. He’d looked at crime data and traffic data and surveillance they weren’t supposed to have and so many financial records and credit card receipts that numbers no longer meant anything to him.

He soaped up his hair, trying to block out the stray remnants of his dream. Flashes of moonlight. The dark tendrils of tree branches. A distant train horn.

He frowned. A train horn? He knew every track and station in this part of the state and there was no—

He quickly finished rinsing his hair, and then without washing further, jumped out of the shower and recorded a voice memo on his phone. Then he got dressed, and called Gillian, who was on the earlier shift.

“Hey Gillian, good morning. Can you boot up the GIS software? It takes forever and I want to use it the second I get in.”

“Sure, Thomas.” A yawn echoed through the phone.

“And pull all the trucking records related to Rawson?”

“Going to get your CDL?”

“Ha ha.”

“Pays more. Unless you’re going to go undercover like Lister.”

A shudder went through him at the thought. “Just boot up the GIS. I’ll bring donuts.”

“I don’t need donuts, Thomas.”

He hung up the phone. He wouldn’t text Lister until he was absolutely sure he had something. She was in the field today and needed to concentrate.

***

Ann plucked hay out of Anne’s hair, shaking her head.

“Not a good look?” Anne asked.

They were in the corn maze, a bad choice on a blazing September afternoon, and a quick making-out session against the corn had resulted in attached debris.

“Not the one I prefer,” Ann murmured. She looked Anne over. Designer polo and tight, expensive jeans. Even more expensive loafers. She looked perfectly appropriate for a landed estate. Perhaps the corn maze was a bizarre form of croquet.

“You’re fitting in,” Ann said.

“That’s the idea.” Anne slung an arm around Ann’s shoulders and they ambled toward the next dead end.

“It’s still my family, you know,” Ann said.

“I know. They’re... pleasant.”

“We’re lucky not to live with them. You seem surprisingly relaxed. Are you always like this undercover?”

“Sure am,” Anne drawled.

Ann poked her side.

Anne squeezed Ann closer. “I feel perfectly safe. And perfectly bored.”

“That’s how I felt when you talked to young Matthew for an hour about his shiny toy truck.”

“His insights into the construction industry were fascinating.”

Ann giggled. They reached the dead end, glanced around, and stole another kiss. Ann made sure her skirt was in good order before they started walking again. She wanted to be the talk of the Rawson Harvest Festival for the right reasons.

Anne’s reasons.

***

“Think I fooled them?” Anne asked, sitting on the bed and pulling off her knee-highs.

“You mean you were lying?” Ann asked. Her eyes widened.

“You think I really believe those things? About politics? About people? About Frank Halston?” Anne was a little hurt.

“No... Not before tonight.” Ann came and sat beside Anne. She was still wearing a white blouse and skirt. “But you were so convincing. So... happy.”

“I’m a chameleon. I match my surroundings. But you know my heart, Ann.” Anne pressed her forehead to Ann’s.

“It’s hard to remember that you’re FBI Anne when you’re with my family. If it was strangers, maybe I could separate. But...” Ann trailed off.

“We’re in enemy territory?” Anne asked.

“Don’t be dramatic.” Ann laughed a little, and kissed her.

Anne wrapped her arms around Ann’s waist. As they kissed she worked Ann’s shirt free from her skirt, to skim her abdomen with fingertips, to cup Ann’s breast. Ann was deliciously hers.

Ann turned her face away from the kiss and toward Anne’s ear. “I want you to fuck me in this house.”

“My pleasure.” Anne pulled Ann’s blouse over her head.

Ann unzipped her own skirt, and then stood, letting the skirt slide down her thighs, presenting her back to Anne for the bra clasp.

Anne stood. She pressed kisses to Ann’s shoulder as she removed her bra, and then pushed down her panties. Ann stepped out of them.

“Turn down the sheets,” Anne said, stepping back and shucking the rest of her clothes.

“Anne, I’m in a hurry,” Ann said.

“We don’t know where this bedspread has been.”

Ann huffed, but went to pull down the bedspread and fluff the pillows. “You’re so conventional.” She turned around, taking in the sight of naked Anne before her. “I’m definitely not complaining.”

Anne swept her up. They tumbled to the bed, exchanging hungry kisses. Ann pulled her close, keeping Anne on top of her, legs entwined, so that the thigh pressed between her own relieved Anne’s ache, but only temporarily. They moved together, Ann breathless, eyes opening, watching Anne’s face above her.

“Ann—“ Anne struggled to get better traction.

“Just like this.” Ann rocked deliciously against her, her wetness pressing into Anne’s leg.

Anne could barely find her lips to kiss her. She settled for kissing Ann’s neck. She felt Ann’s breaths contract against her lips. Her desire grew, teased by Ann’s touches. Wanting.

“Yes. This,” Ann said. She threw her head back. She thrust against Anne’s thigh. She held Anne’s head close against her throat.

“Ann. Let me touch you.”

“Not yet.” Ann laughed. She arched against Anne’s weight. “I want to stay just like this.”

Anne nuzzled Ann’s ear.

Ann hissed. She loosened her grip on Anne. “I need you.”

Freed, Anne lifted into a crouch, her ache for Ann ferocious. She slid her fingers between Ann’s legs. At the first touch Ann begged for more. Anne thrust two fingers into her, worried Ann would scream. But Ann laughed giddily, meeting Anne’s hand over and over, her eyes wide.

Anne couldn’t believe this got to be hers. She stroked Ann, watching Ann’s body tense and tremble.

“Harder,” Ann said, as Anne pushed against her. “Closer,” Ann demanded.

But Anne, knowing better, held her crouch, her arm aching, sliding into Ann.

“God,” Ann breathed, and Anne knew she was close. She traded deep strokes for slippery thrusts against Ann’s clit, until Ann shuddered and dug her fingers into Anne’s arms. Ann’s eyes closed. Her pants relaxed into easy breaths.

“Is it better, in this house?” Anne teased. She settled on her side next to Ann, and kissed her temple.

“In what house?” Ann blinked at her. Then grinned. “Oh. I’m not keeping score. That was delightful.”

Anne drew her hands to her lips and tasted Ann. “I agree.”

Ann’s gaze darkened. “Anne.”

“You’re delicious.” Anne nibbled her own finger like she would Ann’s clit.

Ann growled and pounced on Anne, yanking her hand away and replacing it with her mouth, kissing Anne deeply.

Anne wrapped her limbs loosely around Ann, knowing Ann would squirm, would kiss her chest, her breasts, her stomach. Ann lingered, there, tracing a wet path to Anne’s sides, hips, thighs. Anne only sighed, perfectly content and blazingly on fire, until Ann settled between her legs, like it was destiny, and teased Anne with her tongue the way Anne had licked her fingers.

“Ann,” Anne pleaded.

Ann, laughing, increased the pressure of her mouth. Anne bucked against her. The day had been stressful. The lying, difficult. The charm, disgustingly easily. But now Ann’s tongue was taking away the stain of the day, replacing it with love, with purpose, with need.

“Ann,” Anne said. “I love you.”

Ann slipped two fingers inside her, her mouth firm on Anne’s clit, and Anne snapped like a bow-string, jolting and then stiffening. She placed her fist over her mouth to keep from crying out, and let Ann guide her hips and anchor her to gravity.

Ann continued to tease her until Anne twisted away. “Be merciful.”

“You have five minutes,” Ann said, climbing up to sit by Anne, and pet her sweaty head.

“That’s a lot of time to plan,” Anne said.

Ann made a little noise.

Anne smirked. Ann would be a little more compliant on round two, a little more receptive to taking their time. Anne considered the best ways to use that to her advantage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news, folks. I abandoned my 2020 Nanowrimo project, so I may spend that extra November writing energy on GJ.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Foster child, Marian being annoying, and dildos.

Anne tried to update Marian every few days on the case, but it was an ordeal. Either Marian was at work and couldn’t talk openly, or she was like this—hysterical and paranoid that wolves were lurking in the shadows. She’d opted to call Marian from the farmhouse kitchen at the end of both their workdays, and Marian, tired, sounded worse than usual.

“Marian!” Anne said, to interrupt a rant.

Marian coughed.

“I shouldn’t be telling you this, but we have a break in the case. A lead on where Rawson’s been keeping his materials. And now if my phone is hacked, or yours, we’ve gone and messed it all up. Happy, Marian?”

Marian gulped, then sniffled. “Yes. Thank you, Anne.”

There was a pause.

“Anne, I know we haven’t always gotten along…”

Anne rolled her eyes at the ceiling. She willed Marian to end it there.

“But you’ve believed me, you’ve trusted me. I didn’t even know if I could come to you, I was just being the hysterical sister…” Marian was crying.

Anne pinched the bridge of her nose. “It’s no problem.”

“But it is. You’re the big sister I always needed, and I’m so happy—“

“Marian. Can I have Ann call you later?”

Marian coughed. “Ann is not your daemon, Anne. She can’t just like… transmit emotions and things for you.”

“Can’t she?”

“I love you, Anne.”

_Jesus Christ._

“I know you never say it back, but—“

“Hanging up now.”

“Bye—“

Anne hung up the phone.

Ann, who’d been pretending not to listen from the living room where she was watching some Halloween baking championship on TV, called out, “Do you need me to call Marian?”

“Give her fifteen minutes.”

“And you, my little Pony?”

Anne brushed a couple of stray tears from her cheeks. “Give me fifteen minutes, too.”

“Go chop some wood or something,” Ann suggested.

Anne laughed.

Though… They had bought a cord of wood at the beginning of October. Anne could go check the tarps. But there might be snakes. “We need a gardener.”

“We have a gardener,” Ann said. “Oscar’ll check for snakes on Tuesday.”

Anne sulked.

***

“Anne Lister, this is Rachel Sullivan from Wayne County Family Services.”

Anne nearly groaned out loud. They’d called her at work on Tuesday afternoon, and she’d been in the thick of tracking railroad shipments.

“Hello, Rachel. This is not really a good time—“

“I know Ann Walker put today down as an absence. Anne, you’re never first on our list.”

Anne sighed. Ann was doing her treatments in Raleigh, so that meant Anne would be flying solo.She shifted uncomfortably. “What’s the scoop?” She asked.

“Donna Taylor, she’s 14. Older, I know. Her mom’s in the hospital. No other family or friends to take her in. Just one night, probably. She’s got an aunt in Boone who can come down tomorrow. She could stay at the hospital overnight, but I don’t think it will be healthy for her.”

Anne Lister, better company for a child than a hospital waiting room.

“Okay.” Anne glanced at her watch, and then her computer screen. Leaving her job for Ann’s project gave her a twinge of guilt. She’d been doing that a lot lately. Working from home. Missing meetings. Dodging cases.

Anne closed her eyes briefly. “Did you say Wayne County?”

“Goldsboro Regional.”

“It’ll take me an hour and a half to get there.”

“That’s okay. We’ll have a deputy take her home and pack an overnight bag.”

“Okay. See you in a bit,” Anne said, and they hung up.

She texted James, hoping he could get the house ready if he and Ann got home in time. Then she left her office and looked warily at Thomas, and at Gillian’s empty chair. Gillian’s grandmother was doing poorly. Thomas was overworked.

“I’ve got to go out. I’ll wrap up the report later tonight,” she said. “Uh. Call if something comes up.”

“Okay, boss.” He went back to his computer screen.

_Boss of the year_. She went to pack up her stuff.

***

Donna was wan and weepy when Anne met her at the hospital.

Rachel Sullivan was there and introduced them. Donna seemed amenable to going with Anne, so they went out to Anne’s car.

“Don’t meet many Donnas,” Anne said. “Named after anyone? Donna Reed? Donna Summer?”

Donna swallowed. “Donna Summer. Who’s Donna Reed?”

Anne sighed. “Not important.” She started the car.

“Though I prefer Patti LaBelle or Roberta Flack, I guess?” Donna looked at her hands. She nearly squeaked trying to hold back a sob, then coughed.

Anne adjusted her radio from the Disney station to 70s R&B. Bill Withers started singing.

“That’s cool. What’s that?” Donna asked, hugging herself, her head down.

“Satellite radio,” Anne said.

“Cool. Is it like Spotify?”

“I don’t know,” Anne said, feeling a bit sheepish.

Anne pulled the car onto the highway.

“Are we going to your house?” Donna wiped at her cheeks and slightly unspooled.

“Uh, first, I thought we’d got to McDonalds. You’re probably hungry.”

“Oh.” Donna glanced out the window, and then nervously at Anne. “Can we go to Dunkin instead?”

“Sure. There’s one in my neighborhood.”

Donna sank back into the seat.

The music rolled over to Gloria Gaynor.

***

Donna ate a pumpkin donut and a maple donut and then began to cry again.

Anne put down her coffee and considered. Most of the children she encountered were younger. She’d gotten used to their general emotions. But Donna was a teenager. She encountered more of those in her day job. She switched on her FBI side.

“Do you want to tell me about your mom?”

Donna cried harder.

They were the only customers in Dunkin this late in the day. The counter girl, practically Donna’s age, glanced at them nervously from time to time, but mostly stayed on her phone.

Anne waited.

Donna blew her nose on a napkin and looked in the general vicinity of Anne’s throat. “She tried—“ Donna gasped for air. “She tried to commit suicide. I don’t know why. I do know why. I mean, she just got fired. But why would she leave me?” Donna let out a sob, but seemed drained of tears.

“That’s hard,” Anne said. “Did you find her?”

Donna nodded rapidly. “She was in bed. She left a note. I didn’t know what to do. I called 911 and now she’ll be in trouble and she’ll be really pissed at me and I don’t want to leave my school and move to Boone—“

“Hey,” Anne said, putting her hand near Donna’s. “Let’s just get through tonight, okay?”

“Yeah.” Donna took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and ate another pumpkin donut.

Anne sipped coffee.

“Do you think this is going to make me sick?” Donna asked.

“It’s fine,” Anne said. “So, you don’t have friends you could stay with?”

“I can’t tell them. Oh my God. I would be ruined. They’d make fun of me. No way.”

Anne raised her eyebrows, but didn’t say anything.

***

Anne pulled the car up to the house. The lights were on inside. It looked welcoming and cheery. Anne had texted earlier about Donna, and Ann had said she was on her way home and would be ready. Still…

“So, my partner is home. She’s had a really rough day too. I don’t know how she’s going to be. But don’t take it personally. She’s really happy you’re here. Just—“ Anne had no idea what she was trying to say.

“Okay,” Donna said, and shrugged.

Donna got her overnight bag and Anne got her work bag and the Dunkin’ bag and they went inside.

James was making tea in the kitchen and smiled at them. “Tea?”

“Yes, please,” Anne said, before Donna could decline.

“Ann’s in the living room.”

Ann was on the living room, and smiled but didn’t get up when Anne and Donna wandered in.

“Hi, darling,” Anne said, kissing the top of her head. “This is Donna.”

“Welcome, Donna. We’re glad you’re here,” Ann said.

“Anne said you would say that,” Donna muttered.

A British show was on TV. Anne could tell by the very old buildings. “How was today?”

“Fine, we’ll talk about it later. Did you eat?”

“Donna did.”

Donna blushed.

“There’s some pasta salad,” Ann said. She squeezed Anne’s hand.

“Okay.” Anne went back to the kitchen. Donna wandered with her.

Anne got the pasta salad out of the fridge and got a fork. “Do you want any?”

“No,” said Donna, trying to look unrepulsed by the white food.

James offered her some tea.

“James, this is Donna. James made up your room.”

“Oh, thanks,” Donna said. She tried the tea and did not make a repulsed face.

Anne stabbed some pasta. “How’s your roommate, James?”

“He, uh, has been helping me at work. He likes being outside. But it’s, uh, bad. He’s pretty miserable.”

Anne nodded. So everyone in her bubble was having a shitty time. “I got donut holes.” Anne pointed to the bag she’d set on the kitchen island.

James beamed and grabbed the bag. “Chocolate?”

“Variety.”

He delicately picked out a chocolate one. “You’re the best, Anne.”

***

Donna remarked that her room was “a kid’s room.” Anne vowed to put more movie star posters on the walls. Donna requested Timothée Chalamet. Then she hopped on the bed and plugged in her phone and got to texting, tears beginning to stream down her face again.

Anne went downstairs. James had left with the donut holes, and Ann had fallen asleep on the couch. She stirred when Anne sat beside her.

“Today?” Anne asked.

“I was actually looking forward to it,” Ann said. “So it wasn’t so bad. Kind of…cleansing.”

Anne wished Ann would tell her what the procedure was.

“Oh,” Ann said, sitting up, looking more alert. “Guess what came in the mail today?”

“What?”

Ann wrapped herself around Anne and and whispered in her ear. “The dildo.”

Anne shivered.

Ann bit her earlobe. “Start planning.”

“Did you get the one we talked about?”

Ann giggled. “I got three.”

Anne, without untangling herself from Ann’s grasp, said, “I wish we didn’t have to plan. You should go to bed. I promised Thomas I’d do some work tonight. I’ll be in the library.”

Ann huffed, but sat back. “One day I’m going to steal the key to that room, and you’re going to go to bed at a proper time.”

Anne kissed Ann’s temple and got up. “Not tonight.”

Ann swatted her.

Anne got her laptop and then paused. “Do you know who Timothée Chalamet is?”

“Anne. We watched _Little Women_ just last week.”

“Oh, he’s the guy?”

“He’s the guy.”

“Good grief,” Anne said, and made her way to the library.

Ann giggled.

***

Anne stood in her study, touching the spines of her books. They took up the two side walls, leaving windows on the back wall. On the front wall she’d hung framed Da Vinci diagrams. She had more, in a binder somewhere, but these were what made the space feel like hers. She was grateful for this new home. This new beginning in her life.

Ann appeared in the open doorway. Anne offered her a bright smile.

“I just talked to Elizabeth. The boys will be flying into Raleigh on Wednesday.”

“Excellent. And Phillip?”

“His mom is dropping him off Thursday. His parents are going up to Asheville for the weekend. Some sort of Octoberfest thing.”

“Sounds lovely.”

Ann walked over and put her hand on Anne’s arm. “A house full of kids. Does it make you nervous?”

“Surprisingly not.” Anne drew Ann closer. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“It’ll be a lot of work,” Ann said.

“Ann, do you like your sister?”

“What? She’s wonderful. And she may think I’m a rat, but she adores you.” Ann booped Anne’s nose with her free hand.

Anne wrinkled her nose. “Then I hope we make a good impression. As aunts.”

“We will. Are you still off Friday?”

“Yes, but we’ve got to go to the Rawsons for Halloween. The five of us. That’ll be work.”

“I can’t wait until this situation with Marian is over and I can return to being a recluse,” Ann said.

Anne squeezed her. “Tell me about it. Hey.When this case is over, let’s go to Paris.”

Ann’s face fell, but she tucked her head against Anne’s shoulders. “Let’s. Let’s just do it.”

“We could go for Christmas. I hope,” Anne said.

Ann tilted her head back. Her breath gusted against Anne’s chin. “Not be with our families for Christmas? That’s the best idea I ever heard.”

Anne kissed her forehead. “I have a whole list of ideas.”

_***_

_Some form of beauty, engendered by the imagination, or some semblance of dignity or grace, invests almost every object that excites desire. These illusions, if indeed they ought so to be called, serve the purpose of blending the incongruous materials of human nature, and by mediating between body and spirit, reconcile the animal and intellectual propensities, and give dignity and harmony to the character of man_ , Natural History of Enthusiasm, by Isaac Taylor, loaned to Anne Lister by Ann Walker to hide correspondence, 1832

The bedroom was filled with candles—mostly electric, with two wax ones offering subtle scents. “Extra flamey,” Ann had said, with an odd giggle.

Ann, who had patiently washed the new dildos while Anne was at work.

Ann lie on the unmade bed, wrapped in a satin robe and nothing else, her legs tantalizingly bare. A towel with three toys was beside her shoulder.

Two wine glasses sat on the bedside table, next to their favorite lube.

Anne, naked herself, sat on the bed and took a sip of wine. It had been many years since she’d used a dildo, had a cock inside anybody—that anybody being Maria Barlow. A few night stands had enjoyed the accompaniment of toys, but she hadn’t owned anything bigger than a bullet vibrator in a while. Mariana had been a bit conventional. Anne realized with relief she would never be having sex with Marina again.

She smiled. “Ann.”

“Mm.” Ann lazily reached her hand to Anne’s, who clasped it and kissed her fingers.

“We’re not going to need foreplay, are we?” Anne asked.

Ann shook her head and bit her lip.

Anne shifted to crouch over her, the movement spreading the robe from Ann’s chest. She kissed Ann, who threaded her fingers through Anne’s hair to hold her close. And nearly bit her lip.

“Hey.”

“Get on with it,” Ann said. “Where’s your harness?”

“I think for your first time we should take it slow,” Anne said. She remembered Ann’s hesitancy at sex at the beginning of their relationship. Long gone, but this was something new, and Anne wasn’t sure how Ann would feel. Even if Ann seemed sure.

“You haven’t been practicing, have you?” Anne asked.

“I thought about it. But I want to do this with you,” Ann said, and brought her into another heady, long kiss.

Anne sank into her, and cupped Ann’s breast. “Should we take the edge off?”

“No.” Ann shook her head. “I want the full experience.”

Anne wanted to make a joke, but didn’t. She knelt and examined her choices. She got the thinnest one, black, only the width of two of her fingers, and got off the bed to reach for the lube.

“You won’t need that,” Ann said, still languorous.

Ann was usually more active and explicit about her needs when love-making. This slow, cozy side of her was unusual. Anne considered that Ann was putting herself completely in her hands. Trusting her.

She put a dollop of lube on the shaft, then sat on the bed, offering it to Ann.

Ann slid her fingers across it, smearing and spreading the lube, which brought a black sheen.

“Are the colors important?” Anne asked.

The medium dildo was blue. The thickest and most impressive, pure white. Anne wasn’t sure she’d ever seen a pure white dildo.

“I’d never seen a white dildo,” Ann said. “I special-ordered it. Had it made.”

Anne wanted to ask how much that cost. She held her tongue.

“The other two were defaults.”

Ann was still stroking the shaft, watching her fingers slide through the wetness.

Anne pushed open Ann’s robe. Ann, knees half-bent, spread her legs. Her gaze was on Anne’s face rather than the cock. Anne lowered it to Ann’s inner thigh, leaving wet circles on her skin.

Ann drew in a breath.

“If there’s any discomfort—“ Anne started.

“Anne, I’m begging you.” Ann’s eyes were luminous with desire. Her hands clutched the sheets, restless.

Anne pressed the cock to Ann’s opening, and then, with Ann still watching her face, pushed it in. It felt strange to be inside Ann without feeling Ann clenching around her fingers.

Ann gasped out the breath that she’d been holding. “That’s...more.”

Anne pushed it in to its base.

“Anne. Do you know what this feels like?”

Anne didn’t.

“It’s bliss.”

Anne drew out an inch, and Ann hissed.

“Here,” Anne said. She let go over the dildo and brought Ann’s hand down to it.

Ann began fucking herself. She used short strokes and soon they became intense.

Anne loved watching Ann discover a new aspect to her sexuality and share it. Her own mouth was dry. She ached to touch Ann, but was equally-fixated on the shaft sliding into Ann over and over.

“More,” Ann said. Her favorite word when they made love.

Anne covered Ann’s breasts. She lightly teased Ann’s nipples. Ann’s strokes became more erratic.

“God, it feels so good,” Ann said. She twisted under Anne’s hands.

“You’re so hot like this,” Anne said. “Intoxicating.”

Ann’s thrusts lacked rhythm, but were deep. “Anne,” she said.

“Mm,” Anne said, her body on fire, close to Ann’s, the scent of sex around them.

“Anne,” Ann said more sharply, and Anne’s gaze met her lover’s. “Anne, I don’t think I can come like this. It feels so good but—“

“Probably not,” Anne mused.

“Do somet—Make me come, Anne. Please.”

Anne slid her hand down to Ann’s stomach.

“I need you. Anne.” Ann’s head rocked side to side.

Anne moved to Ann’s clit, her fingers bumping the shaft. She stroked as Ann did. Ann came in seconds, arching up to meet Anne’s fingers as a shudder went through her.

When she quieted and pulled the cock out with a hiss and tossed it onto the bed, Anne pressed a kiss to her mouth.

“Next time, the blue one,” Ann said.

“Okay.”

Ann turned her heavy-lidded eyes to Anne. “You did buy a harness, right?”

“Yes.”

Ann tugged Anne down, until Anne was on her left side, meeting Ann’s brilliant smile with one of her own.

“Anne, you’re naked.”

“As a jaybird,” Anne said.

“My favorite Anne Lister look,” Ann said. She rolled toward Anne and kissed her hungrily.

Anne wrapped her free arm around Ann’s waist, holding her close, their breasts pressing together, their knees bumping.

“I love you,” Ann said, nearly a purr.

“I love you, too.”

“I only want to have sex with you.” Ann reached between Anne’s legs. “Forever.”

“That’s a long time,” Anne said, her chest tightening.

“Lots of time for sex,” Ann said. She circled Anne’s clit and wriggled closer.

Each stroke from Ann sent fire through Anne. “Watching you...was...”

“Tell me,” Ann said.

“Incredible,” Anne said, and then said nothing else, grunting and pressing her forehead to Ann’s shoulder.

“I’ve got you,” Ann said. “I’ve got the whole world in my hand.”

Anne came. Ann stroked her through each quivering jolt, until Anne took a deep breath and blew it out over Ann’s neck.

Ann pushed Anne onto her back and settled against her.

“Ann. We need to clean up.”

“Later,” Ann said, nuzzling her ear.

Anne disagreed, but she would be patient.

Ann nipped her earlobe.

Very patient.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well if everyone else is posting on New Year's Day... Feels better already, doesn't it? 2021?

Anne and Ann waited at the airport gate, per Elizabeth’s strict instructions. They had passed muster with security. The drive to Raleigh had been long. Ann was looking pale and wan.

“You all right?” Anne asked.

“I’m fine.” Ann gave her a tight, clenched smile.

“Okay. You could sit down.”

“I’m too excited.” Ann stared at the jetway door, as if willing it to open.

“Me too,” Anne said.

“You look like you’re about to throw up.”

“What if I break them?”

Ann rested her head against Anne’s shoulder. “You won’t.”

Anne pasted on an equally-fake smile.

The airline representative nodded to them and the few others who’d managed terminal passes, then went and opened the jetway door.

Anne knew Charles and Evan would be last, but she studied each disembarking passenger queasily.

Ann practically vibrated with excitement.

People reunited around them. Others strode quickly toward other gates or to the exits.

There was a pause and a dearth of people. Ann gripped Anne’s arm.

Anne thought of the long trek back to their car in hourly parking. She wondered if the children would have luggage.

Ann shook Anne’s arm. “Look.”

A steward arrived with two boys in tow. Charles and Evan grinned when they saw Ann and Anne. They were both wheeling mini-suitcases.

“Charles! Evan!” Ann squatted and they ran to hug her, leaving their suitcases in the middle of the entrance.

Anne herded them up. “Hi boys,” she said.

They glanced shyly at her.

“Hungry?” She asked.

“Yes.” Charles said.

Evan nodded rapidly. “Starving.”

“Okay. Let’s go get something to eat.”

***

They got Subway and got in the car. Evan resented his booster seat even though Anne knew he used one at home. Charles called him a baby. Anne encouraged them to eat and not fight.

“Want to listen to Radio Disney on the way? We have a long trip ahead of us.” Anne said.

“Mom doesn’t let us listen to Radio Disney,” Charles said. “She said it’s dirty.”

“Well, you’re with me now,” Ann said. “We can break the rules.”

Charles beamed.

Anne turned on the radio, which began playing Arianna Grande’s “Seven Rings.”

Despite the protestations, Evan knew all the words.

“Here we go,” Anne said, backing the car out of the spot.

Ann squeezed her leg.

***

Evan started playing a loud game on his iPad. How he could do that and not be carsick, Anne did not know.

“Put in headphones,” Charles said.

“No,” Evan said.

“It’s too noisy. It’s hurting my ears.” Charles said.

“Mine too,” Anne muttered.

Evan ignored him.

“Evan,” Charles said. Then he leaned over and yanked at the iPad. “Evan.”

“Hey! Stop!” Evan clawed back at Charles.

“Stop hitting me!”

“You’re such a jerk,” Evan growled.

Ann twisted around in the passenger seat. “Boys, please stop.”

They stopped and looked at her, both frowning.

“You know, I have an annoying little sister,” Anne said.

“Yeah?” Charles said.

“And she thinks I’m a big bossy jerk,” Anne said.

Evan smirked.

“Give me the iPad,” Anne said.

Charles and Evan glanced at each other.

“Now,” Ann said.

Charles handed it over.

Ann settled back in her seat.

Anne took the next exit and pulled into a gas station, even though she didn’t need gas. “Okay, brats, we’re going to go in and you can get one pack of candy each.”

“Don’t call them brats,” Ann murmured.

They all clambered out of the car successfully and went into the gas station.

Evan choose M&Ms immediately. “Mom never lets us do this,” he said.

Ann tousled his hair.“What are you studying in school, Evan?”

“Magnets,” he said.

Charles was having a difficult time choosing between gummy bears and sour patch kids.

Ann paid for Evan’s candy and went outside with him.

Anne went over to Charles.

“What would you get?” He asked her.

“Hostess cupcakes,” she said.

He made a face. He choose the sour patch kids and closed his eyes. He nodded and opened them again. “These bring me joy.”

“Great,” Anne said. She picked up tea for herself and Ann. They paid and went back to the car.

“We can’t keep feeding them forever,” Ann said as they buckled up.

“I know. Maybe they’ll get sleepy.”

Ann grinned.

***

Ann locked the bedroom door.

“You know we’re going to have at least one boy banging on our door in the middle of the night,” Anne said.

Ann smirked. “I know.”

Anne drew her onto the bed. “Is that part of the excitement?”

Ann shrugged one shoulder, grinning.

“And Phillip here tomorrow. A house full of children.” Anne couldn’t keep the wistfulness out of her voice.

Ann swatted her. “Who’s the stay-at-home mother in this situation? While you’re off galavanting, Ms. FBI Agent.”

“You only want me home for sex, anyway,” Anne said. She met Ann’s bright gaze.

Ann bit her lip. She pushed Anne.

They hadn’t been able to repeat their time with toys, between work schedules and Elizabeth’s structured timeline. But now Ann was practically begging.

Anne was flattered, turned on, and nervous. She got up and went into the bathroom. Fitting the harness took more time than she expected. She should have practiced. She’d been busy. So this was her practice time. She choose the blue dildo, per Ann’s request, and settled it jutting out from her hips.

She contemplated dressing again. At least tossing on some boxers. Hiding her big blue boner. But she wasn’t used to dressing up for sex. No one had asked her to go to the effort.

Ann would ask.

Anne put her hair up in a ponytail, furrowed her brow at herself in the mirror, and went into the bedroom.

During the long wait, Ann, who had not complained through the door once, had gotten naked and lit several candles. She’d put down their favorite towel—Well, Ann’s favorite, a pink and white striped monstrosity.

Ann lit up at the sight of her. “Anne,” she breathed.

Anne flushed, rather proud of herself.

Ann came and took her hand and urged her onto the bed on her back. “Let me look at you,” Ann said.

Anne tucked her hands behind her head and smirked. “You bought it, I wear it.”

“And the big one, good,” Ann said. She sat by Anne’s hips and took the blue dildo in her hand.

Anne felt Ann’s touch all the way to her clit. “Mm.”

“Oh, do you like that?” Ann ground down.

“That’s the—perfect spot,” Anne said.

Ann looked gleefully at her hand, moving up and down on the shaft, pressing into Anne. After a few seconds, Ann said, “I want you.” She got up and got their lube and applied it to the strap, giving Anne a few more torturous touches.

Then she flopped down next to Anne, and gave Anne’s shoulder a tug.

“Anne.”

“Hm?”

“Fuck me.”

“Whatever you want, darling.” Anne knelt, nudging Ann’s knees apart.

Ann shifted her hips upward, offering herself at a better angle. Anne considered pillows, but then considered she’d better get on with it. Her own center was aching for more.

She ran her fingers through Ann’s wetness.

“Anne,” Ann keened.

“What did you want?” Anne feigned confusion.

“Fuck me. Anne. Fuck me.”

Anne knelt, carefully positioning the strap at Ann’s entrance. She went in easily. Her hips moved naturally until she was buried almost to the hilt.

Ann groaned, long and deep.

“Ann. Quiet.”

Ann shook her head, but closed her eyes and pursed her lips together.

Anne, her body urging her to thrust into Ann, to quench the fire, moved cautiously until she was in a better position to fuck Ann. Then she leaned down, braced on her arms.

“Ann.” She thrust her hips.

Ann opened her eyes.

Anne kissed her, rocking gently into her, forcing Ann to gasp for breath and turn aside, while she urged Anne deeper with a hand on the small of her back. “Anne.”

This felt good. The strap rubbing against her as she moved inside Ann, Ann’s legs kicking at her. Their bodies pressed together and left Anne’s hands, for the moment, free.

Ann stole another kiss, then rocked her head back, her lips open in a silent moan.

There’d been no foreplay. Except the twenty minutes of Anne getting the damn thing on.

“Deeper,” Ann said, raising her hips with each thrust. “Give me your cock. Anne.”

Anne thrust with more abandon, forgetting her caution. She felt herself getting close to an orgasm already. “Keep talking,” she said through gritted teeth.

“You’re filling me up,” Ann said. “You’re inside me, and kissing me, and—Yes.” She let out another audible moan and reached between their bodies for her clit. “Anne,” she choked.

Her hips rocked up into Anne’s, then she froze, gasping and rubbing herself.

Anne slowed her strokes as Ann trembled.

When Ann finally opened her eyes, smiling up at Anne, Anne started to ease out.

“No,” Ann said, grabbing her waist. “Come like this.”

“Are you sure?”

“I want to see you—glorious,” Ann said. She began rolling against Anne, encouraging.

Anne didn’t need a second invitation. She resumed her movements, this time concentrating on what felt best. Ann had masterfully gotten something that would give her pleasure as well.

“Come for me,” Ann said. “Show me.”

Anne braced herself above Ann, looking down into her face, and came, thrusting with unsteady jerks. Ann was still making quiet noises of pleasure as Anne moved. Anne rolled through several aftershocks, wondering if she could come again.

Not yet.

She slid out of Ann, rolling onto her back, ignoring all potential protests.

A kiss pressed to her shoulder. “That was amazing.”

“Mmhm,” Anne murmured.

“I have so many ideas,” Ann said.

It was going to be a long night.

***

Anne came through the door with Phillip.

Charles and Evan were racing each other on the Switch, the dogs encircling them with great interest.

Lorenzo hopped up and ran to Phillip, who knelt to embrace him.

Charles and Evan didn’t look up.

Ann had been reading a magazine. She came to hug Phillip. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

He beamed at her, then looked trepidatiously at the two other boys.

“Charles, Evan, Phillip is here,” Anne called.

“Hi,” they said in a chorus of disinterest.

Anne had attempted to explain to them that Phillip was a friend of the family, kind of like another nephew. She sense that Evan, at least, viewed him as competition, as someone closer to his aunt.

Phillip walked over to the video games. “Oh wow, you’re already on that level? You’re really good at that.”

Charles blushed. “It’s only my second time playing. We don’t have game systems at home.”

“Natural talent,” Phillip said with gusto.

“You can take the next turn. Aunt Ann is making us do stuff tomorrow.”

Ann chuckled. She walked over to Anne and snuggled into her side.

Phillip flopped down and Lorenzo crawled onto his lap, awkwardly hanging off either side.

“Anne,” Ann leaned in close. “I’m a bit sore.”

Anne turned crimson.

Ann slapped her ass.

“Ann! Now is not the time.”

“They’re distracted,” Ann said.

“They’ll be hungry in like, three seconds.”

“Nah. They’ll let Phillip take his turn, get bored watching him, and then be hungry.”

“You’re not getting any.”

“I can go upstairs by myself.” Ann sounded serious.

Anne frowned and turned to her, taking Ann into her arms.

“Three boys. I’m super stressed out,” Ann confessed.

Anne kissed her forehead. “Come on.” She led Ann out onto the porch. “Sit.”

Ann sat.

Anne went back inside and made an ice-cold cucumber gin and tonic, and brought it back to Ann.

Ann sipped it gratefully. “I guess this will have to do. For now.”

Anne settled into the rocking chair next to Ann’s. “Okay,” she said.

“I won’t forget,” Ann warned.

“You know,” Anne said, as the sound of boys laughing increased into a crescendo and then died down again. “I’m a little sore, too.”

Ann bit her lip. “Really?”

Anne leaned toward her and lowered her voice. “All over.”

Ann sipped her drink daintily and with satisfaction.

Anne leaned back.

She knew it was time to feed the boys—despite Ann’s warning the day before in the car, feeding them was working—when Buddy came out to nudge her hand.

“All right. Who wants homemade pizza?” She said, walking inside.

Ann kept her eyes closed, her face turned to the sun.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween! And children drama.

The green makeup wasn’t uncomfortable, exactly. Or sticky. Anne kept trying to touch her face. She felt like she were wearing a mask. She had stopped wearing make-up years ago, even to official balls and functions. Now she had on generic stage paint green. It was disconcerting.

She frowned at herself in the mirror. Her hair was pinned up in a bun—mostly to accommodate the witch’s hat she’d be wearing.

Ann came up to her, brilliant in a white sequined gown that made her look more like a mermaid than a witch. She had rouged her cheeks, though her lips, like Anne’s, remained bare. For kissing, Ann had told her.

“I still think I should be Fiyero for Halloween,” Anne said.

“But you’re the love of my life. And so tall.”

“He was a soldier. He basically died sacrificing himself for goodness’ sake. Elphaba was...”

“The bad guy?” Ann prompted.

“She was the Wicked Witch of the West!”

“I think you’re reading too much into things. You look incredible. Cut loose. Do evil.”

Anne pursed her lips.

“The kids are ready and they want to show you. Stop sulking and come downstairs.”

Anne turned and took the ravishing Good Witch in her arms. “Okay.” She kissed Ann gently, annoyed by the smell of grease paint.

They went downstairs and the boys, who’d been lounging around the kitchen island, straightened up with bashful smiles.

Phillip, wearing a serious expression, was the Scarecrow. He’d even stuffed his shirt and sleeves with straw. Evan, the smallest, had been gungho for the Lion onesie. Charles, though, had rebelled, and was going as a standard vampire. He’d let Ann slick his hair back and spray it into place, and he had fake blood dripping from his mouth.

“Let’s go,” Anne said without preamble. The black dress she wore, while not terribly shapely, was awkward and air-conditioned in a way her usual clothes were not.

“Why do we have to go to a church?” Charles asked for the thousandth time.

“We live too far apart to trick-or-treat house-to-house.”

“But the best part is seeing all our neighbors.”

“I know. And I know you won’t know anyone. But it’s about candy, right?”

Anne herded them into the van she’d acquired for the week. Her Prius wouldn’t hold everyone.

She had to take off her hat to drive. Fine.

The boys chatted to themselves in the back, and occasionally crawled around the seats.

“Ready?” She asked Ann.

Ann smiled and patted her thigh. “Can’t wait.”

They’d chosen the Episcopalians Trick or Treat, Anne’s church. It had an elaborate playground and promised more activities than just candy-swapping. Ann’s church was putting Christ back in Halloween, which they thought would be a little too much for the boys used to their Lutheran church back home.

“It’s a long drive,” Anne warned.

“Can we listen to Disney Plus?” Evan asked.

Anne prepared herself for an hour of three boys and Ann singing along to Harry Styles. Before she had a chance to sigh heavily, Ann was already turning the dial.

***

Ann had taken the requisite pictures of the three boys on the monkey bars for Elizabeth. Dusk was falling. The lights in the parking lot and the playground were on already. It made Anne think of softball, FBI vs. CIA.

Halloween music played.

Ann had her arms around Anne’s neck. They were swaying to the “Monster Mash.” Ann had stopped singing it after the third time it played.

Anne had her eyes closed.

Ann’s fingernails lightly scritched the back of Anne’s neck, unusually bare of long, dark hair.

Along with their three boys, Sam Washington’s four girls were somewhere in the twilight, screaming shrilly. Anne was not used to the sound of children. She pulled Ann closer. Ann was very glittery. Anne pictured herself glittery, too, later. Glitter all over the shower. Laughing.

She could marry Ann. She could marry Ann right now.

Someone coughed.

Anne opened her eyes. Ann slightly disentangled herself to look over her shoulder.

The Reverend smiled kindly at them. “Thriller is starting soon. If you want to round up your children.”

Ann pursed her lips. “Do you think they know Thriller?”

“It’s not that hard,” Anne said.

Ann stepped back and regarded her. “Do you know Thriller?”

Anne looked helplessly to the Reverend, who was already making her way to inform other parents. She searched the now-darkness for the boys, and didn’t find them. They’d come when the music started, or wouldn’t.

Anne did know Thriller.

Ann, too. Ann did it better, with more graceful moves and sharp locks. Anne admired her, and admitted it was easy to dance in a dress. It was even fun.

She swirled.

Ann caught her eye, and chuckled.

Anne wouldn’t dance like this at her wedding. But on Halloween, during the bacchanal, howling at the moon—it was a new moon, and absent—she could be another side of herself. A witch. Maybe four hundred years ago, that’s what she would have been. A lesbian in Salem, trying to land an heiress.

She grinned. She’d landed one.

Ann moved to her side after the dance. “What are you thinking?”

“Witchy thoughts.”

Ann slid her hand up Anne’s back. “Wicked witchy?”

“Are there any other kind?”

Ann’s eyes seemed to dance. They kissed.

“It’s dark,” Ann said. “A few more songs and we’ll head out. How will we find the boys?”

“I’ll text them,” Anne said.

***

The three boys came out of the woods, their costumes half-discarded. Evan’s bare head rose from his suit. Charles blood had swirled onto his cheeks, giving him a ruddy doll impression. Anne wouldn’t point that out.

Phillip looked pensive.

With the night had come cold. Anne regretted her dress.

They carried sacks of candy—old canvas sacks Ann had found for them on the farm—and dutifully plodded toward Anne and Ann, and beyond them, the car.

Then Phillip grabbed Evan’s sack and sprinted. He flew past them toward the van. Anne turned to follow him with her gaze, astounded.

Phillip climbed into the van—they hadn’t thought to lock it—and locked it himself—a futile, desperate gesture. He dug through the candy sack.

Anne turned back to the other boys. Evan looked bewildered.

Charles was angry.

“What the hell?” Anne said. She followed Ann to the van, and when Ann unlocked it, Anne burst into it and grabbed both sacks from Phillip.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Ann mumbled something behind her back, but she focused on Phillip.

His mouth was covered in chocolate. He didn’t meet Anne’s eyes.

“Phillip!”

Anne had no idea what to do. Make him apologize to Evan? Would he?

Ann tugged at Anne’s knee, and Anne retreated from the van.

Evan and Charles climbed in, avoiding Phillip. Anne returned Evan’s bag, and held Phillip’s.

Ann said, quietly, “You shouldn’t have taken the bags from Phillip. You made him feel powerless.”

“Ann. For Christ’s sake.” Anne rubbed her face, forgetting it was green, and became annoyed at yet another thing. What had Phillip been doing, stuffing candy down his gob.

Had he ruined Halloween?

 _No._ Anne furrowed her brow and peered at Ann. “Now what?”

“Let’s get in the van.”

Anne took the driver’s seat and Ann the passenger’s. Ann called back, “Phillip, do you want to tell us what happened?”

Phillip shook his head.

“Fuck you, Phillip,” Charles muttered under his breath.

Evan hissed at him. “Don’t. You’ll get in trouble.”

Ann turned around, ignoring them all. She said to the front window, “Phillip, you’ll eat dinner in your room tonight. If we work things out, you can have your candy back tomorrow.”

Anne started the van. She shook her head. “He needs to know not to do it again,” she said quietly.

“Anne. He obviously knows it’s wrong to steal candy from a child.”

“Then why—“

“I don’t know.”

“Then how do we stop him from doing it again?”

“With patience.”

They pulled onto the road. Anne turned on the radio to the kids’ station.

“Anything else?” Ann asked, once they’d been driving for a while.

“He acted just like a criminal. Clamming up like it was my job to get him off the hook. Like it didn’t happen.”

Ann settled her hand on Anne’s thigh. “We’ll get him a good lawyer.”

Anne grunted, but covered Ann’s fingers, and squeezed.

***

The shower water ran cold before they’d gotten the green and glitter off their bodies. Laughing and flicking water at each other, they’d forgotten the blip in the evening, the annoyances that came with family.

When Anne put on pajamas, Ann pouted.

She sat naked on the bed after Anne pulled down the sheets. “I thought we could play with your cock,” she said, and attempted to bat her eyelashes.

“Ann! There are children here.”

“What if we have children ourselves, are you saying we’ll never—“

“We’ll talk about it then,” Anne cut her off.

Ann huffed and got up, putting on Anne’s favorite nightgown, and Anne, salivating, nearly forgot her prudish stance. But Ann lay down next to her, pulling up the covers, and cupping her face.

Anne rested her head on the pillow as Ann traced her temple, her jaw, her lips. Ann’s eyes were luminous. Anne gazed into them.

“If I only had 30 seconds to live—“

“Nope.” Anne flopped onto her back.

“Nope, what?” Ann asked innocently. She propped herself up on her elbow.

“We’re not going as Xena and Gabrielle for next Halloween.”

“Why not? We’d look amazing.”

“Stop casting me as evil characters,” Anne said sulkily.

“I was thinking more about how my breasts would look in that top,” Ann said. She rubbed Anne’s belly.

“No.”

Ann laughed and snuggled closer to Anne. “I’ll keep thinking.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Ann’s chuckle sent warm gusts of air against Anne’s cheek.

***

Ann sipped her tea and pondered what to serve the boys for lunch. They hadn’t gone to church. Anne had gone to work to meet someone in Greenville. FBI work had to work on Sundays, around the jobs of potential witnesses and accountants and whatever. Ann didn’t begrudge her.

The boys had been kicked out of the farmhouse with the dogs that morning, slightly chilly though it had been. Plenty of time for video games in the sleepy afternoon.

Ann had never had children for more than a few days, and never so many. She was pleased to see moments of peace were still available.

Charlie howled in the distance.

Ann put down her tea. Charlie barked, somewhere in the trees.

Ann went onto the back porch. Charlie appeared, barking animatedly. When he got to Ann, he circled her and nudged at her fingers.

“What is it, Charlie? Where are the boys? Why aren’t you with them?” She squinted at the path he’d come down, the one from the creek. Worry settled into her gut.

Buddy burst into the open field, barking. Ann had never heard him bark. Even when Anne had stepped on him, he’d barely made a sound.

The unfamiliar noise filled Ann with dread. She stepped off the porch into the back garden. She was barefoot.

Charlie darted off again, down the path.

Buddy whimpered.

Ann went back inside, put on her shoes, and grabbed her phone. When she emerged onto the porch again, the boys were there. Phillip was holding Charles’ arm, as if helping him walk.

Ann held her breath until she saw Evan, walking behind them, with Lorenzo trotting at his side.

“He got bit by a snake,” Phillip called when he saw her.

Charles lifted his arm, which was bleeding. He was out of breath.

“Are you having trouble breathing?” Ann asked, taking his other arm and leading him into the house.

“No, just from rushing.” He gasped.

Evan began crying.

Ann examined Charles’ arm. Two puncture holes. “Copperhead?”

Charles frowned in confusion.

“No,” Phillip said. “Darker. Cottonmouth, I think.”

“Okay. Everything’s fine. We’ll take you to the doctor and get you checked out.”

Ann lifted her phone to dial 911, but hesitated. The ambulance would be a half hour away, at best. And maybe a volunteer squad, all the way out here. It would be better if Anne—too far away. Or James? He was in Rocky Mount with his cousin, doing some sort of rehab retreat.

Ann cursed.

Charles hissed in pain.

“Where’s mom?” Evan asked.

Ann went to the front door, opened it, and there was her Jeep. She’d driven to Dunkin Donuts, and the library, and once all the way to Mr. Pataki's for Anne’s favorite wine. She could do this.

“We’re going to get going.” She went back inside to the closet and grabbed Charlie’s harness.

“C’mon.” She didn’t have the strength to drag them to the Jeep. But they came willingly, and crammed into the backseat. Charlie climbed into the area behind the backseat.

The car started to life dutifully and she exhaled with relief. She put the hospital’s address in her phone. Urgent Care was closer, but she wasn’t sure if it would be open on a Sunday. If it would deal with snakebites. Probably, but...

“Charles is kind of pale,” Phillip reported.

Ann drove unsteadily onto the main road. Then managed to stop at the light. And start up again.

“Can you turn on the radio?” Charles asked.

“I don’t have...” Ann sighed. “Satellite radio.”

Phillip said, “It’s okay. We’ll sing. ‘I do my hair toss, check my nails. Baby, how you feeling?’” He looked at Evan.

Evan screeched, “Good as hell!” He giggled.

Charles, wan, murmured, “Woo, child, tired of the bullshit.”

Ann didn’t have the heart to ping him for cursing.

***

Anne arrived in the emergency room waiting area three hours later, long past lunch, and rushed to where Ann sat with the three boys and Charlie.

“Ann,” she said breathlessly.

Ann rose and hugged her. Hugged her tight. “Everything’s fine,” she said. She didn’t let Anne go for a long minute.

When she did, Anne looked over the children while Ann sank back into her chair. “Guys?” She asked.

Charles looked up from his phone shyly.

“He got _two_ shots,” Evan reported.

“We got released, but then you were almost here...it’s good to have you here,” Ann said.

Anne settled into the chair next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Two shots, eh? All you texted was “Everything’s fine, we’re at the hospital.”

Evan ducked back to his phone.

Charles blushed. “I was trying to pet a snake.”

Ann took Anne’s hand at her shoulder and tugged.

Anne grimaced, but asked, “And then what happened?”

“It bit me,” Charles said.

“A cottonmouth,” Phillip reported.

“Hm,” Anne said, settling against Ann. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a cottonmouth in real life.”

“Country living,” Ann said.

Charles dutifully searched for a picture. He had gauze wrapped around his arm.

“Two shots?” Anne asked.

“Steroids, he was having an allergic reaction. Then a tetanus shot. We couldn’t get ahold of Elizabeth.”

“You have to tell her?” Anne asked.

“He has to take antibiotics back with him. I debated.” Ann shrugged.

“Well, we’re definitely having pizza for dinner,” Anne said.

Evan yelped in joy.

Phillip burst into tears.

“Whoops,” Anne said. “Phillip?”

He pressed his fingers to his eyes, sobbing.

Ann released Anne’s hand.

Anne got up and took the empty seat beside Phillip’s. “Phillip?”

It’s not like he got bitten by a snake.

“That’s two bad things that happened while I was there. You won’t let me come over anymore,” he wailed.

“Hey.” Anne glanced at Ann, who nodded, and Anne pulled him into a sideways hug. “We love you. Getting in trouble has nothing to do with it.”

“But I have to be good. Because I’m not like everyone else. I have to be really good.”

“Hey.” Anne felt helpless. She usually dealt with sterner stuff. Hardened men. Women who’d been through too much. “Why did you steal take Evan’s candy, Phillip?”

Phillip rubbed his face. “I’m not allowed to have that stuff at home. And I wanted it. I just really wanted to eat it. And I knew I’d get in trouble, so I just tried to eat as much of it as I can before I got stopped, because I don’t get to ever.”

Anne stroked his hair. He took gulping breaths.

“You can have my candy,” Evan said meekly.

Phillip sniffled.

Anne glanced at Ann.

Ann nudged Charles out of his seat and sat in it, on Phillip’s other side. “Phillip, you don’t have to be good. You just have to try. We all fail sometimes.”

“Did you tell Charles to pet a damn snake?” Anne asked.

Ann tsked.

Phillip lifted his head. “Of course not,” he said.

“See? Sometimes we do dumb things. Our impulses take over.”

“Even Anne,” Ann said.

Anne frowned.

Charles interrupted them, standing in front of them, holding up his phone. On the screen, a cottonmouth in a party hat dance-slithered in a gif.

Ann smiled. “Let’s go home. I’ll call the pizza place on the way.”

Anne stood up and glanced around. “How did you get here? Did you call an ambulance?”

“Oh.” Ann stood. “I drove. The Jeep. I told you I was learning.”

“Yeah, you did...” Anne looked at the children, and then Ann. She took Ann’s hands. “That’s amazing. I’m proud of you.”

Ann blushed, then leaned in to kiss Anne.

Anne said, “I’ll take Phillip back, and you can take the boys and get pizza.”

“Okay.”

Charles pouted. “I want to ride with Anne.”

“Why?” Anne asked.

Ann chuckled. “You have the better radio.”

“That I do,” Anne said smugly. “But you guys get to ride back with Charlie.”

That satisfied them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While you're waiting for the next chapter, go read "The Kaleidoscope House" by extra_Mt. It made me cry today.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW. And some FBI stuff.

Ann tossed her head back, eyes closed, as Anne pounded into her. They’d found a comfortable position--Ann’s hips on a pillow, at the edge of the bed, so Anne could stand while using the strap. She could go longer without a cramp or a pain.

Ann reveled in it.

They were both sweating. Anne’s thrusts produced heady moans. Ann had gone incoherent. Her “Anne”s were “Ah”s. Anne was driven by the pleasure she saw in Ann rocking against her. Ann slid her hands up and down Anne’s braced arms. Ann smiled.

“You’re beautiful,” Anne said again, while deep inside Ann.

Ann’s eyes fluttered open, not looking at her. “You’re…” She managed, breathless. Then she dug her nails into Anne’s forearms. Her moans turned to grunts. They could be as loud as they wanted now that the kids were gone.

“Ann. Touch yourself,” Anne said, knowing she was close.

Ann shook her head. “You,” she managed.

Anne’s arms strained already. It would throw off her rhythm. She straightened. Ann released one arm, but grabbed her other hand, clinging tightly.

With her free hand, she stroked Ann’s clit. She slid in and out of Ann with ease.

Ann’s grip on Anne hardened. She wailed. A shiver seemed to go through her. Anne felt Ann’s orgasm on her fingers, shaking through her hips. She slowed her thrusts, until Ann keened. Her eyes opened. She focused on Anne’s face, and bit her lip, and grinned as her movements stopped.

Ann’s adoring gaze inflamed Anne. She was frantically aroused. Ann still held her hand, twisting it and caressing her fingers.

“Ann,” Anne said, resuming her thrusts. With just a few strokes, she could come--

“No. Wait.” Ann squeezed her thighs against Anne’s hips, to still her.

Anne dutifully stilled, confused, this wasn’t their routine. Ann sat up, nudging her backward, whimpering slightly when Anne slid out of her.

“Are you okay?” Anne asked.

Ann’s grin got bigger. She scooted to the edge of the bed, and then knelt on the floor. She took Anne’s cock in her hand. She pressed slightly.

Anne moaned. “Ann…”

Ann moved closer. She slid her tongue along the shaft, and then took the tip into her mouth. Tasting. Reveling.

Anne clenched. Ann was going to be the death of her. She struggled to stay standing and relatively still as Ann pressed the base of the cock into her core. “Oh, God.”

Ann sat back, gazing up at Anne, her hand moving. Submissive. She kept her eyes locked on Ann’s. Her smile was radiant.

“I’m--” Anne managed, as she came. She covered Ann’s hand on her cock, holding it firmly against herself as she shuddered. The orgasm was powerful, leaving her gasping. Ann knew her tells, and guided her through.

Anne steadied, straightening, desperate for water. Ann unbuckled the harness, and stood with it and took it into the bathroom. She returned, splendidly naked, beaming. She wrapped her arms around Anne’s neck and looked expectant.

“That was…” Anne faltered. The right words eluded her.

“Hm?” Ann prompted. She was warm and damp with sweat. Her fingers tangled in Anne’s hair.

“Great?” Anne said. Her sex life had evolved in unexpected ways. She was still catching up.

Ann kissed her cheek. “More of that?”

“Oh, yes.” Anne drew her close.

Ann pressed her nose into Anne’s neck. “Shower.”

“Absolutely.”

***

Wednesday evening, Anne sprawled on the couch, reading _The Revenge of Geography_ while Ann cooked them dinner. Her cell phone rang.

“Hey, Marian,” Anne said, answering.

“Anne.” Marian sounded out of breath. “Anne. Someone’s following me.”

Anne sat up. “Who? How do you know?”

“I don’t know who. But I’ve seen them several times. Outside my place. Sometimes near the coffee place. Just some nondescript guy. I’ve been trying to get a picture but I’m afraid--if he knows I know--Anne, I’m scared.”

Marian certainly didn’t sound like her confident self. “Are you working on anything else like this? You think it’s Rawson?” Anne asked.

“It has to be, right?”

It had only been a matter of time. The Rawsons surely kept a tight leash on their accounting.

“What do I do?” Marian asked.

“Drop your cat off at the neighbors and transfer to D.C. This week. Can you do that?”

“I think so. I can do whatever I want.”

“You won’t need something from the FBI, then?”

“God, no, don’t--”

Anne frowned. She would deliver that bad news later. “I’ll tell Mariana.”

“Mariana? It’s Mariana-level bad?” Marian’s hard edge came back.

“She’s in D.C. and her husband is an FBI director--”

“Oh, right. Jesus, Anne.”

“And I’ll reach out to Captain Sutherland.”

“Who?”

“Ann’s brother-in-law. He’s in the army.”

“The FBI? The army?” Marian was getting shrill.

“You’ll be safe. Just get up there. Fly. Don’t drive.”

“Okay.” Then. “What will you do?”

“I’ll keep working the case. Marian. We’re going to have to make it official. As soon as possible. Subpoenas.”

“No. Anne.”

“You need to prepare yourself for a shitstorm.”

Silence. Marian inhaled. “I didn’t think this would ruin my life.”

“It won’t. Your bank cooperates with investigations all the time.”

“I thought this was just some country boys in the swamp,” Marian said.

“Big boys with a lot of money,” Anne said.

“I’ll go to D.C. Anything else?” Marian asked.

“I’ll let you know.”

“Anne, I’m scared.”

“I know. But I’m good at my job. Everything will be okay.”

“You’re the only one I trust.”

“You can trust me with your life, Marian,” Anne said.

Marian sniffled. “Okay.”

“We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Bye.”

They hung up. Anne imagined Marian alone in her home. Frightened. Her chest tightened.

Ann came over. She settled a hand on Anne’s shoulder. “What is it?”

“The Rawsons know Marian’s on their case. They sent someone to Charlotte to stalk her.”

Ann’s grip tightened.

“It’s going to be okay.” Anne said.

“Will they figure out that you and she are related?” Ann asked.

“It’s only a matter of time.”

Ann kissed Anne’s head, and held onto her.

***

Bill’s gregarious face filled the computer screen. Anne was in her office, with Thomas. She didn’t like having him here, but it was really his case. He’d done the legwork. He’d have to know about this part.

Gillian, though, wouldn’t. Anne would keep her out of it.

“Always liked Marian,” Bill said, after Anne had filled him in.

Anne rolled her eyes.

Thomas tapped his pen against his notepad. He hadn’t taken any notes.

“Going to Christopher Rawson’s lawn parties isn’t going to cut it anymore,” Anne said. “We need to apply pressure.”

Bill rubbed his chin. “You know what we have to do. We have to talk to Frank.” Frank, the previous man in Anne’s position in Greenville, had been a shady bastard.

“He won’t give us the time of day,” Anne said.

“We’ll have to dig up dirt on him. He moved to Charlotte, right?”

“Yeah, for some reason he wanted out of this district.” Anne pursed her lips.

Bill leaned back. “Do you think he banks at Bank of America?”

“Bill, I can’t ask Marian to do--”

“No, not her. I know someone at the CMPD. They can put in a subpoena. Leave the Charlotte office out of it for now. Someone like Frank who spent twenty years getting away with shit isn’t going to be smart enough to use anonymous bank accounts.”

“So his money’s not all in Bitcoin?” Thomas asked. He giggled a little.

Anne glanced at him, and then back at Bill. “It’s a place to start.”

“If we find anything, we’ll set up a little meeting.”

That’s what Anne was dreading.

And then Bill said the thing she was dreading even more. “And after we do, we have to tell the rest of the FBI, Anne.”

“I know. Fuck.”

Thomas put down his pen.


End file.
